


The Farthest Shore

by Eisengrave, selwyn



Category: Assassin's Creed - All Media Types
Genre: Alternate Universe - Science Fiction, Artificial Intelligence, Canon-Typical Violence, Explicit Sexual Content, F/F, M/M, Mutual Pining
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-07-09
Updated: 2018-07-22
Packaged: 2019-06-07 19:10:44
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence, Major Character Death
Chapters: 24
Words: 92,379
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/15225960
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Eisengrave/pseuds/Eisengrave, https://archiveofourown.org/users/selwyn/pseuds/selwyn
Summary: The Brotherhood of Assassins stands for order and peace in all major quadrants of the known universe. Founded by a legendary man lost half a century ago, it has become unparalleled in its command.Ezio Auditore is a proud agent and captain of the Brotherhood's fleet until he makes a disturbing discovery on the edge of space.Not all is as it seems, and no one can be trusted.[Space Age AU]





	1. Chapter 1

The space around V-F18 was still and silent. Even the light of the stars was dimmer this close to a black hole.

Then, with a flash of bright violet, the _SBB Firenze_ occupied the dark vacuum. She cut through space with knife-like agility; a sleek, elegant design, she was meant to sail the cosmos but could cut through atmo like a blade. Her shields shimmered around her like a barely-visible cloak and her guns lit up in their nests. Searching.

When nothing came up, _Firenze_ allowed her guns to power down and coasted a little ways from the black hole with a burst of impulse drive. As she settled into place, her crew woke up from their temporary podsleep.

 

Ezio smacked his lips unhappily as he stiffly clambered out of his plasteel pod. No matter how much work went into making them more comfortable, podsleep was always unpleasant. Too unnatural. Too cold. It was like falling dead for a few hours and then being booted out before your brain figured out what was going on.

“Time?” he asked, running his hand over his face.

 _“We’ve arrived at V-F18, captain,”_ his ship replied. _“Running scans right now.”_

“Has anything shown up?” He already knew the answer to that, but it was better to hear it out loud.

_“Nothing.”_

“Very well. Get the bridge lit up – usual check, nothing unusual. Keep guns on hot just in case and keep us well out of the hole’s pull.”

_“Understood, captain.”_

Ezio shook his head with a sigh and went to splash some water on his face. A few minutes later, relieved and a little more awake, he took the hyperlift to the bridge. A skeleton crew had already assembled there – Hale manned the helm, still blinking sleepily, while Pryce sat next to him, bent over his console with a look of intense concentration. To the left, Lydia idled over communications. Overlooking all of this, Lieutenant Seraphina turned sharply when the hyperlift doors opened and gave him a smart nod. Her pale blue uniform had a crease sharp enough to cut someone with and her blonde hair was pulled back into its customary French braid. She always looked impossibly impeccable after podsleep, not a single piece out of place.

“Captain on the bridge,” she said and saluted. Her fellow officers followed suit, and Ezio returned their salutes.

“Anything happening?” he asked as he walked to his command chair.

“Nothing yet,” Seraphina said as she stood next to him. “The ship continues its scan.”

Through the viewing port, Ezio enjoyed an unfiltered view of the yawning abyss they teetered on the edge of. It was a deep black, deeper than anything, even the darkness of space. That, at least, had the twinkling spray of stars to interrupt it. This void, on the other hand, simply swallowed everything in its vicinity.

He squinted his eyes for a better look. As far as he could tell, the space around it was empty.

“False call?” he suggested.

“Possibly,” Seraphina replied. “But it was well-done. Too well-done. Even the best falses have their giveaways.”

“Hm.” He grunted noncommittally. False or not, it was still their duty as a ship of the Brotherhood to come over and check. They were the nearest Assassin ship in range. _SSB Modernity_ had been two days closer, but she was a mere Navy-rate cruiser and her drives weren’t powerful enough to play keep-away with a black hole. Captain Miles sent them his preliminary distance scans and an apologetic message before he continued his patrol route.

 _Firenze_ burned closer to the edge of the black hole and settled into an uneasy orbit. Hale’s hands jumped around his controls, prepared to hop them out if anything went wrong, but the situation seemed stable for now. Lydia kept the channels open but nothing leapt out at her. This far in the galactic rim, only outposts and pirates kept channels buzzing.

Everything seemed to be in good order still. But Ezio had never been the kind of captain who sat around until results showed up. Just as he was about to suggest a new order, Pryce jumped up in his seat. “Captain! Look.”

He synched his console with Ezio’s screens, then highlighted what he was looking at. Near the bottom of his screen, a set of coordinates turned bright yellow.

“These coordinates don’t match what should be on record,” Pryce said. “The numbers aren’t right for a black hole of this size, age, and location. Our normal scanners tell us there’s nothin’ wrong, but whatever’s causin’ this can’t perfectly replicate the hole’s radiation.”

“Excellent,” Ezio said, sitting up. He already felt more awake, more alert. “Good catch, lieutenant.”

“It’s the new fit,” Pryce said, satisfied. “The ship’s now so fine, she could catch a needle in the ocean.”

_“Thank you, Lieutenant Payne.”_

The ship’s voice startled Ezio, but he didn’t react. “Alright,” he said. “Let’s follow through on this. Hale, can you bring us closer to these coordinates?”

His helmsman scowled at his console. “Yeah, ‘bout that… it’s possible, but it’s risky. I’d need to keep us at a low burn so we don’t slip into the gravity well, and that’s a bitch on fuel. If anything goes wrong, we’ll have a lot less juice.”

“We can keep that in reserve then. Space jump?”

“If we put people on tethers,” Seraphina said, “then it should work. Presuming that this anomaly is not dangerous.”

“We can send a probe first, poke around. If it doesn’t explode in proximity, get some people out there.”

“Very well, captain,” Sera dipped her head.

The little automatic probe hopped out of _Firenze_ ’s side port and put-putted through vacuum its new coordinates. Its pilot, Sub-Lieutenant Helsey, furrowed her brow in concentration as she carefully threaded it over the edge of the black hole’s pull and then slipped into the gravity well, using it to coast towards the coordinates. The whole bridge watched the little blue marker on the viewport with bated breath, interested despite themselves.

For a moment, the probe passed through Pryce’s indicated space without anything happening. Pryce had enough time to scowl thunderously before the little probe stopped mid-flight.

Ezio eyed the still marker for a second before he prompted, “Sub-Lieutenant?”

“Ah, captain – sorry. I’m not sure what’s happening,” she said slowly. “It’s like we hit something.”

“Can you scan it?”

“Yes, sir.” She did. The scan came back to the ship and Technican Riley brought it up on the viewing port, banishing the image of the abyss to display the scan instead. As the readout drew itself, however, it quickly became obvious what this really was.

A ship. The probe could only scan half of it, but its shape and size were unmistakable.

“What the hell?” Ezio murmured to himself as he examined the readout. That wasn’t the merchant ship distress call they had been sent out here for. “What the hell is a Brotherhood ship doing out here?”

∙∙∙∙

He put Sera in command while he went to suit up with the other four jumpers. She hadn’t said anything, but her tight lips said she disapproved. It didn’t matter; Ezio was one of the very few people on the _Firenze_ who was trained in jumps. He was also the only person who did over a hundred jumps beforehand.

Ezio pulled on the mesh undersuit, then the silver oversuit. As he did, however, his comm buzzed a little before a cool voice filled his head. _“Captain.”_

“Yes?” The new AI was still unfamiliar. Ezio thought of her as ‘she’, but she was too many steps away from human to feel comfortable.

_“I wanted to apologize.”_

“Oh?” Despite his easy-going nature, alertness prickled inside Ezio.

_“Yes. Earlier on the bridge, I startled you.”_

“What do you mean… oh. When you congratulate Lieutenant Payne?”

_“Indeed, captain. I meant to compliment the lieutenant on his performance and bothered you instead. I will do better the next time.”_

There it was. A normal human would not have noticed that, but she was keyed into his implants and must have noticed his reaction. That she thought she needed to apologize… Ezio shook his head. The AI were better than humans at many things, but they were poor humans. “It’s alright,” he reassured. “I forgive you. Now, I need to concentrate.”

 _“Of course, captain.”_ She withdrew from his mind. One day, Ezio noted, he needed to name her.

The oversuit sealed around his body, airtight, and he secured his helmet last. Around him, Ensigns Ripley, Liang, Saghir, and Nguyen checked their suits one last time before giving a thumb’s up.

They turned towards the airlock expectantly. From behind them, five tethers shot out from the wall and clamped onto them, two hooks on their shoulders, two around the waist, and magnetized to the metal plate on the backside of the oversuit. Once that was done, the gravity shut off and the room depressurized. Five minutes later, they were jettisoned in the direction of the coordinates.

To Ezio’s naked eye, he saw nothing. His helmet’s HUD insisted that there was empty space in front of him. And yet, his boots still thumped onto solid, real metal as he arrived at the coordinates. The tractor beam that they’d initially tried hadn’t worked either. This mysterious ship was not only invisible, but untraceable and untouchable.

“Fan out,” he instructed his team. “We’re searching for an entry point. Should you find one, alert all of us and wait.”

“Yes, sir,” his team said in unison. Like a small shoal of fish, they parted ways over the ship.

Ezio walked slowly and with his hands in front of him. He felt along the side of the ship and tried to map it out in his head. More probes indicated that their discovery was U-shaped and he’d landed near the underside of the curve. Ripley and Liang took the right arm, while Saghir and Nguyen converged on the left. It was shaped like an old-school SSB ship – tiny and leaf-like, with engines that made up half its hull.

He walked near what felt like an engine set-up. A small probe was already here and its blinking red light told him that the bridge was probably watching. He gave it a friendly wave before he pushed it out of the way.

The probe drifted to the left then zipped back towards him again. Ezio frowned when it bumped against his arm and he looked down. Seraphina wasn’t the kind of commander to allow funny business on the bridge, even something meant in good fun. He pushed the probe again.

It didn’t budge. In fact, it pressed closer and its red light blinked insistently.

Confused, Ezio pressed comms. “Sub-Lieutenant, this is a poor time for fun, as much as I can understand the urge.”

Soft static buzzed back at him. His confusion spiked with a tinge of worry. Ezio switched channels. “Commander Picquery, come in. Lieutenant Lemore.”

Nothing. Soft static.

He tried tight beam, but it continued to be silent. When Ezio backed away from the probe to get to his jump-mates, the probe buzzed forward and herded him away.

Something else was piloting the probe. Who, or what, he didn’t know. Ezio attempted a few channels but they were quiet. “Can you communicate?” he finally asked the probe. It shouldn’t be able to hear him, but it didn’t need to. Something clicked over his comm and someone, unfamiliar and male, spoke to him.

 _“Captain Auditore,”_ the voice said. It was faintly mechanical. _“Do not alert anyone else of this. I must speak with you but in the utmost secrecy.”_

“Who are you?” Ezio asked, curious despite himself.

 _“Can I trust you?”_ the voice replied.

“I don’t want to hurt anyone,” Ezio said, which was true. “I came out here with my ship because a distress call was sent out and I found… this, instead. Are you a crew member?”

 _“In a way,”_ the voice said. “ _Come inside and I can tell you more.”_

“I want to inform my team,” Ezio rejoined. “And my ship. They will be worried.”

_“Right now, they think you are exploring the left side of the stern and are receiving regular reports back. They do not know you talk to me.”_

His brow creased. Ezio was quiet for a split-second before he continued, cautious, “You’re faking me?”

_“Only out of necessity, captain. I mean no harm to you, your crew, or your ship. But I cannot let too many people know. Come inside and I will tell you more.”_

He bit his lip. Then, against his better judgement, against the silent Seraphina inside him that glared knives into his back, Ezio slowly nodded. “… very well. Can you let me in?”

 _“Follow the probe,”_ the voice said. On cue, the probe perked up and zipped away from Ezio. He hesitated only a little before he followed it.

The probe lead Ezio to the very backside of the ship. The giant floodlight from the _Firenze_ didn’t reach over here and it was all dark. Ezio turned on the small light of his suit and examined the invisible space before him. “What do I do?”

 _“Nothing,”_ the voice said. Next to Ezio, a small hatch opened. _“Go on.”_

It was dark inside the ship, but Ezio saw nothing to be concerned over. He hesitated again before he entered the ship, but only for a second. His time as captain of the _Firenze_ had calmed him, but even captaincy couldn’t take out the spirit that got him into the Brotherhood in the first place.

He unhooked his tether, magnetized it against the ship, and dove into the small black square.

The interior of the ship was pitch-black, so oppressive that it seemed to swallow up his light. Ezio navigated uncertainly until emergency lights flickered onto life against a wall. They lead up in a line through a corridor before turning out of sight.

“Hello?” he asked. This time, the voice did not answer.

Uneasy, but not undeterred, Ezio floated down the corridor. He used the wall to push himself along and looked around as he went. The ship’s interior was clean, orderly, but empty. He found no other people here, which disturbed him. This ship was old and small for a spacefaring vessel, but it still needed at least twenty people to man it. Why was it so empty?

The emergency lights continued into several rooms, then terminated at another hatch. When he drew closer to it, it opened on its own soundlessly.

Creepy. Ezio pulled his blaster from its holster and set it to stun – but kept his finger trained on the little wheel, ready to turn it to maximum.

The hatch was as dark and empty as the rest of the ship. Ezio pulled himself down it and ignored the brief sensation of claustrophobia. Usually, he had no issue with navigating the interior tubes of a ship. Like this, however, when it was dark and seemingly endless… it bothered him.

“Are you still there?” he asked, his voice unnaturally loud in the small space. He used the ladder lining one side of the tube to keep moving.

 _“I am,”_ the voice said. The longer Ezio listened to it, the more sure he became of its human nature. _Firenze_ ’s new fit had given it a new AI, top of the line, but even she sounded inhuman when she spoke long enough. This new voice had all the right inflections of human speech, despite the mechanical flaw. _“I’m waiting for you.”_

“Where are you?”

_“Follow the lights.”_

“Are you going to tell me anything else? It’s a little unnerving.”

_“I am aware, captain. But what I need to show you is better seen than said. You are not far now.”_

Ezio popped out of the hatch. As he watched, it sealed shut. “It feels like you’re locking me in.”

_“I am pressurizing the ship for you. You now have air, so your helmet is not necessary.”_

Ezio didn’t remove it. “Thanks,” he said, “but I’ll keep it on.”

_“Suit yourself.”_

Another set of emergency lights lit up for him. He followed it through the dark ship. As he did, he spoke up. “Are you the only one in here?”

_“I am.”_

“Why? What happened?”

_“That will be answered when you find me.”_

Ezio suppressed the annoyance. “Then tell me the name of this ship, at least.”

 _“The name?”_ the voice echoed. _“Eagle.”_

“Eagle?” Damn. _Eagle_ was one of the most common ship names in this side of the galaxy ever since the famous first of her name disappeared five decades ago. Everyone wanted some of that ship’s grandeur. Ezio saw the appeal – he’d nearly signed onto a different ship just because she had been the _SSB Eagle._

He came across a door. When he stopped in front of it, the little red light blinking next to it became green and it opened. Ezio cautiously edged into the room – and yelped when he dropped down abruptly. “Thanks for the warning,” he called out.

_“My apologies.”_

He shook his head. As Ezio walked in, however, a light turned on the room and revealed a giant computer bay. Ezio paused for a moment, uncertain. “What -?”

 _“Captain Auditore,”_ the voice said. It was louder now. Echoing. He realized it wasn’t coming out of his helmet speakers, but from the room itself. _“Thank you for coming here. I waited on the edge of V-F18 for a long, long time for this.”_

The computers turned on, one after the other. Ezio took a step back but as expected, the door were closed. He raised his blaster.

_“My ship drifted here five decades ago. My body is gone, but I… I still remain. Do not fear, captain. I mean you no harm. And I am in dire need of your help.”_

From the top of the computer bay, a giant light turned on, casting a pool of illumination on the floor between Ezio and the computers. He aimed it, before his blaster jumped up and pointed around the room.

Light coalesced in the spotlight. At first, a pair of shoes formed, then legs, then a torso, followed by a head. The figure was slightly taller than Ezio and looked nearly human, save for the slightest golden hue around it.

When he saw its face, however, Ezio sucked in a harsh breath. He knew that face. Every Brotherhood agent, techie, and serviceman knew that face. Hell, the janitors down on planetside HQ probably knew that face. It was broadcasted in every classroom, in every hall. The recruitment posters bore it.

Altaïr ibn La’Ahad’s solemn, handsome face looked at him. Instead, unlike the broadcasted images, his face moved. Reacted. It was like looking at another human being. When he spoke, his mouthed moved. _“I am who you see. I am Altaïr. But I may not be him for much longer.”_

“What – how? You’re not – he’s –“

 _“You have many questions,”_ the image said. _“I would need more time to explain them all in the detail they deserve. I lead you here for a different purpose. This ship, SSB Eagle, will slip into V-F18 in an hour and I will be destroyed. But if you take me in, I can survive.”_

“How?” Ezio finally said, picking the simplest question for now.

_“You have a cortex implant that lets you key into your ship. I can inhabit it instead.”_

“You’re an AI?” he asked, appalled. He was unlike any other AI that Ezio knew.

_“Not a true AI. This can all be explained if you let me in, captain.”_

“Hold on, I can’t just –“

 _“Please.”_ The pleading note in the AI’s voice caught Ezio off-guard. So did the expression on the image’s face. It was hopeful and beseeching at the same time, an expression that shouldn’t have been on the face that founded the Brotherhood. _“I have lived here for fifty years, four months, and eighteen days. You are the first person I have seen since then. I am lonely. So, so lonely.”_

It went against all reason, all common sense. It went against everything he’d been taught. But Ezio said, “What do I need to do?”

_“There is a chip in the central terminal. I will upload myself onto it. You can insert it into your cortex implant. The computer will turn off when I do.”_

“And the ship?”

_“It will remain non-functional. When I fled, I used everything to hide myself. Quickly, captain.”_

“Fled?” Ezio demanded. “What do you mean – how do I even trust you? You can’t –“

 _“There is no reason,”_ the AI interrupted him. _“There is no reason at all that you must trust me. But I trust you, captain.”_

With a final, piercing look, the image disappeared. The computers turned off. From the central terminal, a tiny, wafer-thin chip slotted out.

“Hey. Hey! Come back here, I wasn’t done talking to you!” His voice echoed around, but there was no reply. “You can’t just expect me to believe you, right? For all I know, that’s a virus.”

Nothing. Ezio had half a mind to snatch the chip up and take it back to his ship for analysis. He pulled it out of its little slot and examined it warily. It was small and complex, unlike anything he’d ever seen. He bit the inside of his cheek.

Before he could think better of it, he tugged his helmet off. At least the AI had not lied when it said it’d put air in the room. Ezio breathed in stale air and felt around the back of his skull where his cortex implant fit snugly against the base of his skill. His ship-key was lodged in there.

He looked at the chip in his hand, closed his eyes, and pulled his key out. It was uncomfortable, like pressing on a bruise or an aching tooth, but it came out. In its place, Ezio slotted in the chip.

For a moment, nothing.

Then, everything.

The AI stretched inside him like light. Like the ocean trying to fit inside a cup. He was vast, so vast, and every implant in Ezio lit up with new sensation. He gasped and fell to his knees, cradling his implant, and blinked rapidly as he tried to reorient himself. The AI stretched inside his brain before he withdrew and almost pulled Ezio with him, like the tides inexorably pulling away from the beach.

After a few seconds, it stopped. From inside his head, the AI said, _“Sorry,”_ in a way that was almost sheepish.

“What… the _hell?”_

 _“I will explain shortly,”_ the AI said. _“But nothing I said has been a lie. I am Altaïr – or rather, a copy of my brain made shortly before I died of injury. I have inhabited this ship for a very long time. And you, captain – I know you. Ezio Auditore, captain of the SSB Firenze – I know you. I watched you. That is why I knew you would help me despite the situation. For that, you have my thanks.”_

“You’re… welcome?” Ezio still felt dizzy even though the AI –Altaïr – had drawn back from his head. He felt nauseous and light-headed, like he’d been ejected from podsleep too quickly, and he stumbled back into a wall with a dull gasp.

 _“Ezio,”_ Altaïr said, now sounding concerned.   _“Ezio – are you alright? I made sure that this room was suitable for human occupation before I ejected myself. Is it me? I’m sorry, I’ll –“_

He seemed to shrink inside Ezio, but that only worsened his dizziness. “Wait –“ he slurred, reaching out for nothing. “Altaïr – you… oh. Damn it…”

His vision fuzzed out. Altaïr continued to talk to him from inside his own head, but his words became meaningless garble as Ezio slipped down, unconscious.


	2. Chapter 2

He’d half expected an interrogation upon his return. At least a thorough questioning as to where he’d been, what he’d seen, what he’d discovered that took him away from his team. What he got instead was regular procedure, with his away team discussing the significant age of the vessel they’d been on, and nothing else.

Ezio felt different, and he wasn’t terribly surprised; there was no precedent case of an AI sharing a human body and its implants; especially not one with an attitude or a memory, or one that could plead for its survival.

His limbs felt oddly rubbery on the outside while they tingled on the inside, almost as if someone was constantly sliding a taser-like device over his nerves. It didn’t feel good, but it also wasn’t painful. Just as if something was moving under his skin.

Ezio banished all thoughts and imagery of eels and continued his debrief as normal, logging nothing worth saving on the derelict ship. That it couldn’t be further from the truth would have to be his little secret, for now.

To be honest, it was quite easy to think that it wasn’t real, because aside from the tingling sensation, all of it could have been in Ezio’s head. Especially once the voice he’d heard before returned and spoke.

 

He had told Ezio that his cortical implant could support his systems, but that wasn’t the full truth. AI weren’t meant to be placed inside a single person without extensive modifications. Their computational power was too valuable to waste on an individual, not when a single AI could take control of a whole fleet.

But Altaïr wasn’t a true AI. He was the closest humanity had ever gotten to one, true, but a true AI was made entirely from scratch. Him? He was a human translated into data, neurons into code, synapses into electricity on silicon. What that meant for Ezio, he did not know.

_ Thank you,  _ he said quietly as he watched the world from behind Ezio’s eyes. Things had changed a lot since he’d fled. When Ezio had gotten debriefed, he had been worried about Ezio getting singled out. And he had been. They’d put their electronic eyes on him and Altaïr… well. He’d reached  _ into _ Ezio until his body fooled their scanners. For all they knew, Ezio was as ignorant as the rest of his crew of the truth.

He’d never done that before. He had never done any of this before.

_ They were watching you. Testing you. Don’t worry. They know nothing.  _ He pooled into a heavy, living pile in the back of his mind, watchful and wary.  _ Keep it that way. You cannot trust the Brotherhood. Not anymore. _

 

Ezio waited until he could be alone before trying to speak to his unexpected passenger. It was easier to think of him as an AI. The ramifications of having another person inside of him were a little beyond his head at the moment.

“What are you talking about? You're...well, you created the Brotherhood. Shouldn't I take you to them?”  _ Instead of carrying you around in my head. _

Could Altaïr read his thoughts? Or was he going to have conversations with himself? This was weirder than anything his training could have prepared him for.

_ No. The Brotherhood you know now is now is not the one I helped found. Do you not wonder why I was in that ship, Ezio? Why I am like this? _

He grew a little more agitated and his thoughts sparked around Ezio’s head like a firecracker in miniature. Altaïr embedded himself in Ezio’s hardware, then his wetware, until he finally managed to cool off. He was hesitant about becoming too active, lest he accidentally give him a stroke.

_ I was betrayed. Usurped. I fled on the Eagle but I died to my injuries. Before I succumbed, I copied myself into my current form. _

 

“Betrayed by who? The records say you disappeared. Fifty years ago.” Ezio didn't doubt that someone could change the records, but it was difficult to believe that an organization that revered Altaïr could have buried the truth about him so readily. He fell quiet when he stepped out of the lift, hastening his walk towards his quarters. He needed to know the truth that this AI understood. He needed to have answers about this voice in his head.

Every time Altaïr shifted around, Ezio could feel it. It was freaky, but not unbearable.

 

_ They would say that,  _ Altaïr said bitterly.  _ It wouldn’t be a whole lie, though it is barely a fraction of the truth. _

They entered Ezio’s room. Altaïr tuned into his vision automatically, not knowing what to expect, and then faltered awkwardly when he saw the massive poster that took up one side of the wall. It was his face in full rendered color, serious, brows furrowed, partially obscured by a hood, with large block letters under it in Galactic.

KNOW THE TRUTH.

For a moment, he wasn’t sure what to say. Did he need to address that, or was it better to ignore it? After a small pause, Altaïr opted for the latter, though he was disquieted by it as well. Had his own image been appropriated by his betrayers for this… this propaganda? 

The rest of Ezio’s room was militantly neat. That much had not changed from Altaïr’s days: still the same featureless grey cube.

_ You may know him. He was once my brother-in-arms… Abbas. A schism had formed between us already then, but I had never expected it to grow so deep, or to be so poisonous. _

 

“Abbas? He...he took over after you disappeared. I remember, he spoke at my graduation.” Ezio fell quiet, staring up at the image of Altaïr. He'd always considered the founder an almost mystical figure, a man of unimaginable willpower and perseverance. Someone to be admired, and followed. 

 

_ He is alive? … Never mind. Ezio, do you have a terminal in this room? If you could, insert my chip in it and allow me to gather the information myself rather than asking you.  _ He could just dive into Ezio’s memories instead, and learn more that way, but that struck Altaïr as profoundly invasive. He would never know, but still. Still.

He owed Ezio for saving him. He would not repay his generosity so wretchedly.

_ Nonetheless, Ezio - I hope that some of my creed has survived to this day. Nothing is true. _

 

“Everything is permitted.” Ezio replied without thought or hesitation. He'd studied all he could of Altaïr's writings, even if they were most definitely not part of his education or his Special Ops training. But his special interest in the foundation of the Brotherhood had never limited itself to what was legal and what was not.

He reached up for the chip but hesitated. If he pushed it into his terminal, Altaïr didn't just have access to the entire ship; he'd be in the network. Could Ezio trust in his gut feeling? Or was he about to end his career? 

But the AI knew the old creed. It knew intimacies of Altaïr's life that shouldn't be possible. Ezio had to take the chance.

 

Altaïr braced himself for disconnect. With an earth-rattling click, his entire world went dark and he dropped into the void. Altaïr felt both limitless and confined in the space of the tiny chip, as blind as an infant, as silent as the mute. In this space, he had no measure for time.

There was another click and his senses flooded with new information. Altaïr surged online and he spread himself through this new system as far as he could go, as deeply as he could penetrate, until he felt stretched thin. There were some firewalls in some places that bristled when he crept near them but they were small, centralized, easy to avoid. It was like being on the ship again, but different. More…  _ active. _

For a moment, he was lost in the vastness of his form. There was an infinite cat’s cradle of networking possibilities in front of him, each one more fascinating than the last, but… no. No. He pulled away until he was clumped in a single network.

This wasn’t like inhabiting Ezio. That form had been more limited, but also more familiar. The basic shape of a human was known to him in the way the formless ocean of this network was not. Even back on the  _ Eagle,  _ he had been limited to his little computer bay, conserving power at all costs to keep himself alive just a little longer.

Ezio’s computer screen flickered and a new program booted up of its own bidding. Through his speakers, Altaïr spoke.

“-an you hear me? Ezio. Good. Continue to ask me questions while I read about what has happened.” Altaïr split his attention two ways and dove into the history of the last fifty years. The VMF and the Commonwealth stopped warring twenty years ago. Known space had doubled twofold. Technology continued to develop by leaps and bounds, and humanity crept closer to fixing the corpse of Earth. Altaïr was warmed by the good news and it was a valuable bulwark against what he learnt next.

“The Brotherhood has three hundred and sixty-four ships in its fleet!” he exclaimed, aghast, loud enough that he strained the top levels of Ezio’s speakers. “We… we are a corporation? A corporation with worlds, and an army, and privately registered citizens.  _ This _ is what the Brotherhood has become?”

 

“Was it not supposed to? The Brotherhood has fingers in everything, a hand on the wheel. It’s grown since your days, but this is how we ensure that things aren't going south again.” It sounded off, even as Ezio said it out loud. Power was dangerous and notoriously seductive for corruption. He'd seen some questionable practices, even dared to defy his superiors now and then, but Ezio still obeyed the Brotherhood, trusting in the intentions it had been built on.

“This isn't what you had in mind?” He felt vaguely more normal, speaking to a computer rather than just himself.

 

“No. That wasn’t why I made the Brotherhood. It was meant to help, not guide. Power was never our -  _ my _ \- aim.” Altaïr felt sick, as much as lines of code could feel sick. The screen flickered as he turned over restlessly in the system. He already missed being in a body.

“The Brotherhood came about in an age of strife, when we teetered on the verge of losing ourselves in endless war. After our purpose was complete, we were to cede power to the people. To still watch, yes… but not to control.” Altaïr rifled through more files and his voice steadily grew more disheartened. Disappointed.

“That was the reason Abbas and I quarreled. I had thought that those who still believed in me would continue to resist his efforts. But I cannot find them, Ezio. I cannot find the names of the men and women who built the Brotherhood with me, who believed in our original purpose even after the schism. Not in your books, not in your news, not in your memorials. All… gone.”

 

“No, not all. You remain.” Ezio didn't know how a computerized voice could sound so sad, but it tugged at something deep within him. His doubts about Altaïr vanished. No man, flesh or code, could fake that level of disillusionment.

Altaïr was probably much more at ease inside of the terminal, and the gesture meant nothing to a thing without sensors, but Ezio rested his hand on the monitor.

“Your name stands still. And so do you, in a way. We can fix this.”

 

“My name has been stolen. My words, taken. I am a tool, just as everyone else who follows the Brotherhood now.” Altaïr would have ran his hands down his face if he had the body to do it. Instead, he sighed an electronic rush of static. “Ezio. I told you on the  _ Eagle _ that I chose you for a reason. Do you know why I did?”

 

“No. I have a feeling you're about to tell me, so let me not waste our time with guesses.” Ezio wanted to protest Altaïr's assessment, but he knew better. He had seen the posters, had heard Abbas’ speeches. Hell, he'd gone into the academy because of Altaïr.

 

Altaïr adopted a lecturing tone. “Are you acquainted with the Fermi Paradox? Put simply, it asks why we have not met aliens despite the high probability of their existence. Dozens of theories exist to answer it. Some say they avoid us. Others wonder if they are simply too far away. However… I believe I found evidence detailing why.”

Altaïr was about to continue, but something in the network caught his attention. It was a strange, buzzing sensor, seemingly sweeping through the cloud, and he withdrew from it cautiously.

“Before I say any more - take me out. Put me back in. This is too sensitive to be said openly.” Altaïr waited until he was comfortably slotted back into Ezio. Once he was, he stretched inside of him until he settled.

_ Before our planet was ever even capable of supporting life, there were the Precursors. An ancient alien civilization that contained the entire galactic expanse. Somehow, they went extinct and now we live in the graveyard of their ruins. Yet, what they created persisted after them. I discovered one of these artifacts.  _ From inside Ezio, Altaïr sketched up an image of the Apple and shared it.

_ Through it, I saw you, before you were ever born, before your parents ever met. I saw you.  _ His voice grew warm.  _ And I knew, then, that you were someone who was very, very important. _

 

Ezio had grown very quiet as Altaïr spoke. Not all of this could be true, could it? That would mean that this alien species had lived on Earth before humanity, and that they’d what, died out like dinosaurs? And also left behind time-manipulating devices? If they were so advanced, how could they have died out?

A million questions flew through his head, but his mind chose to focus on the warmth of Altaïr’s voice when it came to his premonition of Ezio. Of his birth. Of his existence. 

“Why me?”

He excelled at his training, with unnatural aptitude for every skill that was necessary for an agent of the Brotherhood, but Ezio didn’t come from anywhere special, or knew anyone truly important. Ezio had never felt any sense of importance in the universe, and even as Altaïr said it, he questioned it.

“You saw me? In this orb? Me specifically, as I am, right now?”

 

_ Yes. Just as you are, just as you will be. I will admit - I was skeptical at first. But you trusted me when you had no reason to. You preserve my secret, when you have no reason to. You have a role to play in all of this, Ezio Auditore. _

And maybe that role would come sooner than he expected. Altaïr could not allow the Brotherhood to exist in its current state, and that wasn’t even considering the mystery of the Precursors. His second chance at life only meant that he needed to carry on his work.

With careful fingers, he probed into the truth of Ezio’s life. An early graduation from Masyaf, which was exceptional enough on its own, but it was bracketed by a service record as spotty as it was fascinating.  _ I cannot stay idle. I have so much I need to do… and it won’t be possible on my own. Not as I am now. I still need your help, Ezio. _

 

“You mean you want to stay in my head?” Ezio could feel the beginnings of a headache, as if someone was rifling through his brain like a filing cabinet, slamming things and poking at others. Maybe he could get used to this, but if he had to build this constant presence into his life and routine, it was going to take some adjustments and ground rules. Not to mention that he needed a little more to go on if he was going to be of help to Altaïr, outside of ferrying him through the world.

“I mean, I’ll help you however I can. I believe you. You just have to tell me what we’re doing.”

 

How much could he tell him? How much did he need to hide? Ezio reacted remarkably well for someone who’d been told that everything he’d been taught was a lie, that aliens existed, and that Altaïr was going to oppose his parent organization. Did he  _ grasp _ the enormity of the situation?

Maybe it was for the best that he did not.

_ First, I need to know if my allies are still alive. Malik Al-Sayf. Maria Thorpe. Those are the most important names. But be discreet. No one can know what you do. Your… background should give you the necessary resources. _

 

“Alright, that should give me something to start with.” Assuming they were still in any databases. They might have been erased from the Brotherhood’s history, but chances were good that they still existed as private people. They’d have to be fairly old, too, so perhaps Ezio should start his search with seniors. No one would find that suspicious, merely odd, even if it was flagged at any point. Besides, Ezio knew how to sidestep protocols.

He could feel Altaïr hover, look through his eyes, try to subtly feel through his body.

“I...we’re going to have to discuss this whole,” Ezio waved a hand at his own body, which was stupid considering that Altaïr could only see when Ezio let him, “sharing issue. I have a ship to captain, and a crew that knows me. You cannot take over when anything important is happening...actually, you shouldn’t take over when I’m on duty at all. Can you see my thoughts? Otherwise, we’re going to have to find some way to communicate in emergencies. I can’t really walk around, talking to myself.”

 

_ I won’t control your body. I don’t think I am even capable of that through your implants. Not every aspect of your brain is open to me.  _ He could see through Ezio and feel what he felt, but Altaïr doubted he could actually seize control of him. To do that, he would need to key into every part of his brain.

_ As for communication… I don’t know. I can go deeper into your brain, but doing that and preserving your privacy is… complex.  _ Everything in it was so  _ connected.  _ It wasn’t like a computer or a network, where things were stored into their neat, corresponding files and locations. Even just his surface skim of Ezio’s memories had given Altaïr a deluge of junk data - half-remembered dinners, snippets of conversation, various trivia, and so on - and he had to sort through that, like a hoarder through a pile.

 

“You fooled the implant scans, right? So you can sort of sink into me beyond the circuits,” Ezio was more or less contemplating how he could keep Altaïr from being detected. Scanners were one thing, in-depth assessment another. And he’d have to go through that once they returned to base, well before he could set foot into the anonymity of his off-duty life. 

“As long as you don’t dig in without some warning, I think this can work. I don’t want to shut you out too much if I don’t have to.”

Ezio sat down at the terminal, fingers sliding over the smooth keys. He could start searching for those names Altaïr mentioned almost immediately, right after he finished his report on the wrecked ship that had been discovered. It would be a false report, on his part. If Altaïr spoke true and the Brotherhood really was so deeply compromised, then Ezio could trust no one at all. No one but himself and his passenger.

_ That was different. You have implants elsewhere on your body that corresponds to your vitals. I merely… persuaded some parts of your body to follow the implants. _

He still was not sure of how much he could do. Altaïr had used intensely experimental technology to create himself and everything he figured out about what he could do, it was all… guesswork, at most. Educated guesswork, certainly. Ezio did not need to know that, however, so Altaïr said no further.

_ Does this bother you? _

 

“It’s...strange. I’m not really sure if something is you or not. I feel pins and needles all over when you’re looking through my head. Implants seem to go a little haywire too.”

Ezio got up from the chair and went over to the mirror, tugging open some of his uniform to inspect the one implant that had to lay at the surface of his skin. Three small, circular pieces of metal followed his collarbone, and each of them was flaring with some sheen of color.

“That’s not normal...can you...maybe we need to try this out. See what you can do, and how much you can do before I can’t take it. I mean, you’re not an AI, but you fit like one into me. Sort of.”

 

_ Nothing we currently possess is a true singularity. I am the closest entity to a full artificial intelligence that current technology allows for. _

Altaïr examined the tri-colored implants with some concern, though he could not tell why they were doing that. He wasn’t doing that - was he? Maybe it was just his presence inside of Ezio that made them react that way.

Sometimes, he wished that he’d studied up more on AI before he turned himself into one. Or that this wouldn’t have been necessary at all. Fifty years in isolation let him forget what it felt like to be human, but still… sometimes he was nostalgic.

_ Warn me if I overwhelm you. _

With that, Altaïr carefully unleashed some of himself. The amount of data that went into creating a full human was unbelievable. It went beyond supercomputers, beyond ships or stations: the sheer breadth and width of data that encompassed a mere person would need a world built from computers to run. It was why humanity’s efforts to create a full AI continued to fail - the sheer complexity of nature’s engine was near-impossible to perfectly replicate. It was only by copying a human brain that they got so close to playing God.

Like a tidal wave, he washed up against the sparking, ever-present burn of Ezio’s mind. Even now, Altaïr was careful to not accidentally extinguish it. So instead, he sought to sink into him, to meld with him, until they could occupy every inch of this flesh-blood-bone vessel together.

 

Ezio gasped. It was almost too much, but he didn’t tell Altaïr to stop. It was far worse than his first moments with the implants. All of his senses were hyper alert, he could feel every pass of stale, recycled air go into his lungs and leave it. His skin was crawling with sensation, and he didn’t know if it was pleasant or painful. Altaïr’s presence was more than electrical impulse, it was alive, and it was flowing through Ezio like a wave.

The light was too bright. The room was too warm. Two minds inside of one body was almost more than he could handle.

“Stop,” he breathed, feeling suffocated in his own mind.

 

He withdrew immediately. Altaïr even pulled out of Ezio’s other implants and curled up into a compressed ball. It felt uncomfortable; he wondered if he’d accidentally pulled Ezio with him in the process, like ripping a piece of paper unevenly.

_ Did I hurt you? _

 

“No, no you didn’t, but...it feels like there’s more of you in me than me,” Ezio felt it like a biting cold, suddenly present everywhere. He shivered and buttoned his uniform, checking the mirror to see if he looked any different. No, nothing, just a little shock behind his eyes.

“You can...you don’t have to do that. You can be like before, that doesn’t bother me.”

This was going to be a balancing act they’d have to perfect before they returned to base. Before Ezio stepped in front of people that were not his loyal crew.

 

Uneasy, Altaïr let himself expand again. It required a delicate sort of balance but he managed to find a foothold between enough and too much.

_ I apologize,  _ he said ruefully.  _ I am not yet accustomed to being in someone else. _

Privately, Altaïr was a little frustrated. He enjoyed being in a body more than a network, but holding back like this was... unpleasant. He felt duller this way, less of himself. Carefully, he pulled himself into Ezio’s other implants. He could read his vitals like this: elevated heart rate, heightened endorphin and adrenaline levels, increased brain activity.

He informed Ezio of the readout.  _ Perhaps,  _ Altaïr suggested,  _ I can put my processing power to use elsewhere. Your cortical implant lets you key into your ship, but that’s all it does. If you get a secondary implant, I may be able to help you more than being just a voice in your head. _

 

It sounded a little too good to be true, but Ezio was rapidly learning that the world expanded far beyond what he thought was possible.

“What else can a cortical implant run?” It was an interesting proposition, if it worked. Ezio would feel much more at ease with his passenger if there was some tangible benefit from hosting Altaïr, beyond the sense of duty he felt towards the founder of everything he believed in.

 

_ Your cortical implant is a general use tool. It functions as a ship-key, a tracker, an ID, and in some cases, a black box. You were Special Ops - I bet your implant is boxed. With a secondary implant, however, I can do more than just talk to you. Imagine everything I already did and magnify it. _

Altaïr was happy to discuss this, rather than delve into other topics. He’d worried that he would need to argue down everything to convince Ezio but he seemed to have more questions about what Altaïr wanted to do than what Altaïr  _ was.  _

Altaïr himself wasn’t sure what he was. What his existence meant. Some philosophers might have argued that he was just an advanced computer who acted like how he thought he should act, but Altaïr was sure, so sure, that he was human. At least Ezio didn’t bring that up. Altaïr was still arguing it out with himself.

_ Are you familiar with power suits?  _ he asked. He brought up an image of a bulky armor-like suit with a blank, anonymous helmet covering the wearer’s face.  _ Their helmets have various tools. Readouts. Scanners. A general display. Combat aids. That’s close to how I could function. _

 

“That...might be incredibly useful.” Ezio had been inside of a suit before, had made use of it, faced combat with it, and received extensive training, to the point that he was kind of surprised he’d been delegated to command a ship instead, but he’d never complain about captaining the  _ Firenze. _

“I’ll have to get approval to get a secondary implant, but if it could work like that...” the possibilities weren’t endless, but there was potential here.

 

_ Can you do it without appearing suspicious? _

There would be eyes on Ezio after this. If he behaved in a way that tipped off his handlers about his lie, then they wouldn’t be in the pot - it would be straight to the fire. All that time alone taught Altaïr a valuable lesson about the weight of discretion.

 

“That depends. I’ve never needed a combat assistance implant before,” Ezio doubted that any of his actions would go unnoticed, but an implant was innocent enough. There’d be no programming, no protocols requested that would put someone watching him at unease. A blank slate that could be inspected before the installation would raise no flags.

“But it’s not completely outlandish. I’ll make it work. And then, you will.”

 

_ Agreed. Good luck, Ezio.  _ The future remained uncertain but Altaïr was undeterred. He had enough time to think about what he wanted to do and now, he could finally set in motion all his plans.


	3. Chapter 3

The arrangement worked out better than either of them could have expected. Altaïr had thought he would have missed being the one wielding the arms, but there was a keen artistry to working in synch with Ezio. He didn’t just set up aiming reticles and pinpoint enemies - he was also thinking ten times faster than everyone else in the real world, creating a plan that would get both of them out of the situation unharmed and on the top.

_ Ezio, enemy to your left. Shoot the console next to him - it will both remove him and give us a way forward. _

Altaïr had also gotten into the habit of rearranging Ezio’s notifications. Now, nothing went amiss, not even the slightest reminder.

_ And take your supplements before you forget again. _

 

“Not really a priority right now,” Ezio blasted the console and ducked away from the following explosion. His enemy was not so lucky, and the dying grunts of the man were entirely too audible. Something was on fire, a bridge was collapsing, and it was only Tuesday.

A simple retrieval mission had been the perfect occasion to test out his secondary implant with the secret function, and it worked beautifully. Altaïr was like a small, on-board pilot who could keep on top of everything that Ezio forgot in the heat of battle. It was as if he was wearing a suit, except a lot squishier. But also a lot faster and far more agile.

He vaulted over the burning, dying man and through the hole in the wall where the console had been. The other side was completely cool, which meant he was getting closer to the hull of the little pirate ship and further from the core of the engine. Which was good, because he’d set explosives there about five minutes ago which would take out the whole ship. Ezio needed to get back to his shuttle, promptly, or also enjoy a fiery grave.

“Simple retrieval. Forgot to mention the pirates in the report. It’s just how I like it from HQ.”

 

_ You didn’t take them when I told you to before we left the ship,  _ Altaïr said as he queued up a map of the ship for Ezio. They got closer to where they’d drilled a hole through the hull - until the door that Ezio had been about to step through abruptly shut in his face, nearly taking his foot off in the process.

_ Manual override from the bridge,  _ Altaïr informed him before he even asked. He still didn’t skim Ezio’s brain in too much depth, but some things were obvious.  _ You can take the vent over the door, though it might be a tight fit. _

Altaïr highlighted the part that Ezio needed to blast through to get into the vent.

 

“Alright, I love tight holes and crawl spaces,” Ezio changed his route immediately, adjusting to make the climb and push away the cover of the vent. It was a very small vent, and Ezio was going to have to tuck his limbs in very tightly to fit. He squeezed in, using his elbows to crawl along. He was going, but it was a fairly slow process.

“Fuck, how long is this thing?” 

Worse than the small size was the steep incline. Ezio was sweating under his layers, but there was no time to strip away any non-essentials. Those explosives would be close to their detonation, and then he’d be propelled with more force than he’d like.

 

_ Thank me later. _

Despite his dry words, Altaïr searched for a way to speed up their way through the little vent. He checked a dozen different routes before discarding all of them for being unsuitable, then pressed into Ezio’s body implants instead. He convinced his heart to slow down then carefully picked his way through his brain until he found what controlled his ability to feel temperature.

Altaïr turned the figurative dial down a notch.  _ Better? _

 

“Much. Grazie.” It was turning out to be very useful, having someone help control your body in stress situations. Ezio wondered if this kind of application of AI could be the future, but now was not really a moment for contemplation and futuristic thought. He pushed through the vent, which thankfully levelled out again, before giving way to a downward slope.

Sliding forward on his stomach was really not a dignified way of travelling, but Ezio had no choice in the matter. He only hoped Altaïr had calculated the end of this route too.

But his worries would prove unjustified, because he just slid face-first into a grate which he managed to bully out of the way. The vent delivered him into another corridor, and this one was clear. He could hear the thrumming engine of his shuttle and was quick to jump to his feet and set off at a run. He only had seconds now.

Just as he got to his shuttle and climbed in, the pirate ship was rocked by the explosion at the core. Ezio slammed the thrusters into reverse, ripping off the drill lodged in the hull of the ship in the process. No matter, it could be replaced.

“Gonna be a bumpy ride, take the wheel.”

He scrambled for the exo-suit, if only because the shuttle was likely to get caught up in the explosion and lose vital systems in the process. The return journey was already set into the navigation, but Ezio by himself only had the choice of strapping on the suit or flying the shuttle. It was a good thing he had two minds to do the work.

 

Altaïr took control of the shuttle while Ezio fumbled his suit on. With pinpoint movements, he guided the shuttle out of the predicted debris cloud while carefully surfing the shockwave that burst from the pirate ship as it imploded.

It was child’s play. He dedicated a tenth of his attention to the task at hand and hovered over Ezio again.

_ Good work,  _ Altaïr murmured as he slid through his system and set all his vitals to rights.  _ That’s one more pirate gone from the star lanes. The second part of our mission also went well. Their database revealed a name - Maria Thorpe. _

Altaïr did one more check of Ezio before he settled down again.  _ Are you familiar with her? _

 

“Not personally. There was no mention of her in connection with the Brotherhood.” Ezio checked the monitors that registered the stability of the shuttle’s hull and shields. Altaïr had done good work, everything looked level. Only a couple of minutes until they hopped into hyperspace, and he’d be safe to take the suit off again.

“Who is she, anyway?”

 

_ She was…  _ Altaïr trailed off. Who  _ had _ Maria been to him? Once, he’d thought he’d loved her. Now, he was not so sure. Time and distance had worn down the sharpness of his emotions until they were vague outlines inside his electronic heart, remembered but not felt. Given the space to think and weigh every part and parcel of his life, Altaïr could look at his life with a little more objectivity. Maybe, if he was fortunate, with a little more wisdom as well.

_ She was a good friend of mine,  _ he said before the pause grew too long.  _ A strong companion, a dedicated ally, and a fierce believer in what was right. I admired her. I trusted her. In a better world, she would have been written down in your history books as a hero. _

He could have been happy with Maria, Altaïr concluded, had he the chance to marry her, as he’d originally wanted. She would have been a reliable pillar in his life and what they lacked in passion, they could have made up for with stability. That was a happier ending than many married couples got.

_ As of right now, however, Maria is… well.  _ Their shuttle came into view of the  _ Firenze,  _ which had been hidden inside a nebula while they went to deal with the pirate ship. Altaïr rifled through his downloaded files distractedly, searching for a better way to put this.  _ She works as an independent contractor now. That ship we just blew up had been part of her private fleet. _

 

“She’s a pirate is what I’m hearing.” Ezio could never get enough of seeing his ship out in space, she was magnificent and he was unreasonably proud to be her captain. Some parts of working for the Brotherhood were worth the dubious practices, at least, that’s what the selfish man in him preached.

He accepted Altaïr’s explanation of who Maria once was with a grain of salt. There’d been hesitation there, something he wasn’t telling Ezio. Was there history? Should he be cautious? Could his AI companion be lying? That was an interesting concept that he’d have to give some thought to.

“Finding her may turn into hunting her down.”

 

_ Well,  _ Altaïr said as he guided the shuttle onto the docking bay.  _ I wouldn’t be so sure of that. Blowing up the ship got her attention. And, apparently, if I’m reading this file right, then her mobile station, the Burning Cross, was only twenty parsecs away. _

As their shuttle touched down, the black void burst into violet light. From the raw wound opened into space-time, a hulking mass of metal slid out with silent malice. It was hideous; built out of what looked like a dozen other ships smashed into a single form, it was shaped like an oil tanker from pre-space Earth and bristled with armaments all over it uneven, gunmetal-grey steel hull.

The low-slung belly of the beast lit up red as soon as it heaved its bulk out of the Gate and highlighted the nested weapon within. No sound traveled through space and yet, somehow, the grinding rotation of the giant shipkiller lascannon as it took aim at them was crystal clear. It didn’t spool up power but its intent was palpable; a single shot from that giant cannon would punch through their shields and core through the  _ Firenze _ .

_ Maria,  _ Altaïr said with grim certainty.  _ So she found us instead. _

 

Ezio didn’t have time to admire the ugliness of Maria Thorpe’s ship, he was running out of his shuttle and towards the bridge. His comm systems was already furious, but he didn’t need to listen to a dozen different officers right now, he could see the problem, thank you, and it was about to blast his ship into smithereens. As he dove into the lift and punched in for the bridge, he took a moment to check in with his passenger.

“Is there something I can say to her, hail her with? Come on, don’t let me down now, Altaïr, your old girlfriend is about to kill two hundred people.”

Good people, too, because the crew of the  _ Firenze, _ currently in absolute crisis mode, consisted of respectable recruits that Ezio had almost all handpicked.

 

_ Hail her,  _ Altaïr said, calm despite the jumpy state of Ezio’s emotions. He was an ocean of ice underneath Ezio, too intent on what he saw and what it meant to focus on secondary things like being afraid.

_ She hasn’t fired on you yet, even though she could have easily overpowered you. That means she is waiting for you to hail her. _

 

“Right. Great.” Ezio entered the bridge, all too aware of the flaring red lights that signalled alarm. Everyone was tense and at their stations, but there was no panic. Only the bulk of Thorpe’s ship on the main screen, and that was enough.

“Hail them.” he commanded, nodding towards the communications officer. He didn’t take his eyes off of the screen, taking his seat and sucking in a deep breath. There was no time to fix his appearance, the dirt on his face, the cut on his lips. He’d look as battered as he’d come aboard. He didn’t even take down the hood of his uniform. They were a Brotherhood ship, and they’d look like one until the end.

“I hope you know what you’re doing,” he muttered under his breath.

 

_ Trust me,  _ Altaïr said, projecting calm certainty.

The viewing port of the  _ Firenze _ lit up with an image of a bridge. It was circular, with two concentric rings of at least twenty people manning various consoles, and massive compared to the  _ Firenze _ ’s seven-person bridge crew. In the center, on an upraised platform, a woman sat on her command chair like it was a throne. She was old. Wrinkles bracketed either side of her pinched mouth and her hair had more salt than pepper. She peered at Ezio with hard, merciless eyes, sizing him up like a shark eyeing prey.

The Burning Cross. It had a reputation for hunting down Brotherhood ships like it had a vendetta. Usually, the behemoth slunk around the corners of known space with the rest of the pirates, leaping on ships that wandered too far from the herd.

_ “I am Commander Thorpe of the Burning Cross,”  _ she said in a steely tone. Her voice ballooned to fill the  _ Firenze’s  _ bridge, rung through their ears like a drum.  _ “I find it very interesting that a Brotherhood ship would have the balls to blow up one of my fucking ships.” _

_ Tell her that…  _ Altaïr sighed inside Ezio’s head, and continued.  _ Tell her that I need to speak to her. Use my name but say Alt-air. Just… don’t ask why. Please. _

 

“Are you crazy? You can’t speak with her, I have to speak with her,” Ezio hissed under his breath as he mustered the old pirate bag on his screen. Half of him wanted to prove to her what it meant to cross the Brotherhood. The other half reminded him that he had the Brotherhood’s founder in his head, and he was instructing him on how to make his crew and ship survive this potential disaster.

He cleared his throat and stood up.

“...Maria Thorpe. I have been searching for you, so it’s kind of you to show up in person. Altaïr,” it pained him to butcher the name so sacred to everyone in the Brotherhood, but he had an on-board pilot who demanded it, “would have a word with you, if you allow me to come on board.”

 

Her eyes narrowed further.  _ “Altaïr?”  _ she said, and her crisp Inner Rim accent managed to stomp over every accent of his name with vicious, deliberate ignorance. Inside Ezio, Altaïr winced, displeased.

_ “That old piece of shit’s with you?”  _ she continued. For a moment, she looked ready to order her ship to fire on them. After a tense second, she sighed and sat back in her chair.  _ “Alright. I’m in a good mood today. I’ll let you come on my ship to talk this out instead of pasting you across the surface of this asteroid field. What’s your name, boy?” _

 

“Captain Ezio Auditore da Firenze, at your service.”  _ You old bag. _

Ezio mocked a bow, grinding his teeth to keep the tension off of his face. His crew could not see him falter or doubt, they had to have absolute faith in him. Otherwise, he could kiss his ship and all of their future goodbye.

 

_ “Hm, sounds about right. I can recognize that poncy colony accent from anywhere. Take a shuttle and bring the old fuck with you - only the two of you, understand? Try anything funny, and we’ll see how long a Brotherhood agent can hold his breath in space.” _

Thorpe cut off the transmission and the screen went dark.

_ Age made me more mellow,  _ Altaïr remarked, unimpressed.  _ Why couldn’t it have done the same to her? _

He noted Ezio’s tension and tried to coax him a little.  _ Relax. You can do this. You have hairier situations on your record. _

 

Ezio gave orders to the bridge, who all looked rather confused but didn’t question their captain’s actions. The Brotherhood taught absolute obedience and they practiced it here. Ezio gave Seraphina instructions for what sort of escape was possible should he not returned and she listened with a tight-lipped expression. Then again, most of her expressions were like that, so Ezio wasn’t sure if she was having a strong reaction or not, but that was something he could muse after he survived his encounter with Maria Thorpe.

It was only in the lift that he spoke to Altaïr again.

“Hairier situations maybe, but none where the lives of my entire crew depend on the whims of an old hag. No offense, but she did not sound very fond of you.”

 

_ We don’t know how much she knows,  _ he replied. _ Maybe she believes the revised history you got - that I disappeared and was never seen again. I think that would warrant some bitterness. _

Thankfully, not enough to have them blasted out of the sky. Small mercies.

Their conversation drew to a halt once the lift opened up in the docking bay again. The shuttle they’d taken onto the pirate ship had been taken away from maintenance, but the  _ Firenze _ had three shuttles. Ezio and Altaïr clambered into the second and after a quick launching sequence, darted towards the waiting steel monstrosity. One of the smashed up ships that formed it swung out like a lever, giving them a landing zone.

When they stepped out, a small troop of pirates in armor and wielding blasters stood at the ready. In front of them, Commander Thorpe waited patiently.

“Well, boy,” she said. In person, her voice was more wizened, raspier. “Where is he?”

_ Ezio,  _ Altaïr said with quiet urgency.  _ Repeat after me - Maria, this is a conversation better held in private. I am here, but not as you would expect. And stop mispronouncing my name. _

 

Ezio was going to get shot, he could feel it. The old lady wasn’t exactly formidable, but she had enough guns around her to make up for that hundred-year old body. Ezio’s thoughts were not kindly inclined when it came to pirate commanders who threatened his ship and there was a certain petulance to the way he repeated Altaïr’s words.

“He would like me to inform you that it would be a conversation better held in private. That he is here, but not as you expect, Maria. And to stop mispronouncing his name.”

_ Dio, you better be right about her. _

 

Even the pirates around the commander looked incredulous at Ezio’s words. The commander herself, however, looked thoughtful. She still looked like she was ready to order her men to gun down Ezio if he sneezed wrong, but she would put a lot more thought into it. Finally, she waved her hand, prompting the guns to lower.

“Since you seem like such a courteous boy,” she said, a little sardonic, “I think I’ll forgive your words. I’ll even hear you out. Come.”

She turned on her heel. As she did, half the men that had been around her broke off to form around Ezio instead, and blasters prodded at his back to move him along. Inside Ezio, Altaïr looked around the hangar in fascination.

This part of the  _ Burning Cross  _ was massive on an awe-inspiring scale. It looked like she’d simply scooped out the inside one of the ships and converted the interior into one large hangar that was now filled with neat, orderly lines of offline corvettes. Each one nestled inside a hexagonal carrier with only its thin, pointed nose jutting out; everything else was draped in shadow. Occasionally, the constantly shifting lights inside the hangar slid over a carrier and highlighted a shape that was leaf-like, but it never lasted long enough to make out mor details.

In battle, those same corvettes would pulse out the side of the ship to create a deadly cloud of tiny ships that could slip under most conventional arms, fly past shields, and create enough damage to take out a ship a hundred times bigger than them, and the  _ Burning Cross _ held enough of them to possibly fight down a fleet.

Between each row, a spindly structure of swaying lifts and walkways created a way for people to get around. Ezio was frogmarched to one such lift and experienced an uncomfortable ride out of the hanger while at least five different blasters warmed their barrels against his body.

_ Incredible,  _ Altaïr mused to Ezio as he observed everything.  _ Something like this would have been impossible just a few decades back and she did all of this herself… mm. Makes sense that she would survive when Malik and I did not. _

Maria had always been very practical. That she would turn her instincts towards piracy instead of doing good was a sad turn of affairs.

 

Ezio’s thoughts were much less filled with admiration as he scanned the capacities of the ship. Or rather, how to take it apart. If the Brotherhood was serious about removing Maria Thorpe from the universe, one operative trained as he was would be enough. Even with the serious fire power she commanded. The Brotherhood still worked on the principle that one blade in the dark was better than a dozen riflemen during broad daylight. Or something like that. 

He took note of access points, powerlines, number of armed gunmen. Just in case. Just in case Altaïr’s words didn’t sway the old hag. If he couldn’t convince her, Ezio would make sure she never threatened another vehicle again.

_ If she does not listen, I cannot leave this floating fortress without taking action. _

And unlike Altaïr, he did not have fond memories to stand in the way of his opinion of Maria Thorpe. Piracy was a crime with many, many victims.

 

Five minutes later, Ezio was escorted into a small, private chamber that held a desk, two comfortable leather chairs, and a dark screen. Maria took one of the chairs with a sigh and motioned to the other one vaguely. When the pirates moved to escort Ezio into the room, she opened her eyes incredulously.

“I said I was going to have a private talk with him,” she said. “Does that sound like I want you fucks around?”

“Ma’am -” one pirate spoke up, lifting his blaster a little higher. He immediately shut up when her gaze swung to him.

“Get the hell out,” she ordered and the pirates reacted as if she’d yelled instead. They filed out of the room and shut the door with quiet respect, leaving only her and Ezio within.

“Sit down,” Maria said after a little pause. She reached down and massaged her knee with a low curse. “Damn shit prostheses… alright. So, little knife boy, you come into my corner of the galaxy, blow up one of my ships, and then start saying stupid shit after hailing me… what does that mean, mm? Should I just skip the trouble and blow up your pretty ship now?”

 

“You know as well as I do that your location will have been marked and the Brotherhood will come find you, no matter how many guns you have. So,  _ signora _ , please spare me the threats.” Ezio left out the part that he had not activated his implant’s tracking functions for this particular venture, but Maria didn’t need to know that.

He looked away from her.

“How do we do this? I speak for you or do you want me to take you out?” His hand lifted slowly, showing Maria his empty palm as he touched his neck.

 

“I don’t give a hot shit if the Brotherhood knows where I am,” Maria said, but she watched his rising hands with some interest. When he touched his neck, however, she lifted her arm sharply. “Ah, ah - no. No fun toys here, little knife boy. Not when I have my own.”

Her arm hit the desk with a heavy metal thud, and split apart into a cannon with a dot of bright blue plasma in its coiled depths. Not an arm. A tricked out prosthesis.

_ Ask her for a terminal,  _ Altaïr said.  _ After that, let me handle this. _

 

“If she shoots me, it is on you. Remember I am a chosen one, hm?” Ezio turned his gaze back to Maria, sighing as he considered the cannon. A very defensive old hag, he’d have to correct in his mental notes.

“If you want to speak with Altaïr, I am going to need a terminal,  _ signora. _ And if I was here to kill you, I wouldn’t go through all of this trouble.”

 

“You talk a lot,” Maria said. “Thank your mother for giving you a pretty face to make up for it.”

She lifted her non-cannon hand and jabbed her finger over to the dark screen afixed to the wall. “Alright,” she said expectant but clearly not waiting for much. “Show me whatever you want to show me, and pray it’s good enough.”

_ Do as she says,  _ Altaïr urged him. He curled up in preparation for the separation, but the click of being removed still jarred him. When he was inserted into the side of the screen, Altaïr blinked a little, groggy, before he carefully reached out.

The screen turned on. After a moment, he projected a constructed image of his own face and said, “Maria. It’s good to see you again.”

She looked unimpressed. Her cannon continued to hover at Ezio. “Anyone can fake a face and a voice,” she drawled.

“We met when you still worked for Sable,” Altaïr replied. “I tried to kill you, you tried to kill me - I won.”

“Bullshit, you cheated.”

“It was fair and square.”

“This is why Abbas tried to kill you,” Maria said, unsympathetic, but her cannon slowly lowered. “What the hell is going on, Altaïr?” This time when she said his name, she said it correctly, without any of the exaggerated mistakes.

“I did not go missing, as Abbas may have reported,” Altaïr said. “Instead, I managed to escape his ambush on the  _ Eagle _ , but I was wounded. I had little time left, so I copied myself instead. That’s why I’m here, Maria. Ezio found me. He helped me. So please ensure he survives this encounter.”

Maria digested all of this silently before she shook her head. “That’s a lot to drop on someone. So I’m talking to an AI?”

“Maria,” he said, now growing a little more urgent, “I  _ am _ Altaïr. And I need your help. I came to find you -”

She didn’t let him finish. Maria pressed a button on the underside of the desk that made the screen go dark and her cannon swung back to Ezio again. “It’s not harmed,” she said before he could speak. “But it’s in a closed network and it won’t be doing anything anytime soon. I’d like to take the opportunity to ask you now - what the hell’re you thinking, putting a Turing AI into your head? Is Masyaf so shit now that they teach you this stuff?”

 

“He’s not an AI.” Ezio was tense. Without Altaïr in his head, he felt a lot less inclined to think that Maria needed to be a living ally. But Altaïr was also in peril, no matter what she said. The chip was just a small thing, easy to crush, easy to erase, and it was the only remnant of the foundation of everything Ezio believed.

He balled his fists, feeling the blades hum in return, ready to activate.

“He’s human. Masyaf has nothing to do with this. Give him back, or I will be forcing you to.”

If she wouldn’t listen, this would get bloody very quickly. Ezio didn’t remember getting so possessive or defensive, but Altaïr was the only reason he’d come here in the first place.

 

“Looks like an AI, talks like an AI, and acts like an AI - I’m calling it an AI,” she replied, unintimidated by his theatrics.  _ Men.  _ Trust Altaïr - or his copy,  _ whatever _ \- to pick up another hot-headed, over-talented idiot in a hood. Type to type.

“Do you even know what you’re messing with?” she asked him. “This thing’s not like the kiddy toys you get attached to ships to babysit you during podsleep. It’s a Turing AI - created from the brain scan of a human being. Did you never wonder why they aren’t available now even though that tech was available to us fifty years ago?”

 

Ezio rolled his eyes. Old people and their obsessions with AI. It was something he’d noticed plenty of times during his training at Masyaf, when instructors and professors neared the subject. They had differing opinions on it, but all shared the same fascination.

“Your concern for me is touching, really,  _ signora _ , but I did not come here for a story. Or a lecture. I came because he requested it, to find out what happened to the names erased from Brotherhood history. He tells a very different story, and I am going to find out the truth about why I have been lied to. You can either help or let me go, but you will return  _ il mentore _ to me, either way.”

He let the blades disappear again, offering no threat, just simple demand.

 

He was even more like him than she had thought. It was the same bullheaded nature that made him put his head down and charge instead of using the grey matter in between. If she was seven decades younger, she would have been charmed. Now, she was just exasperated.

“I’m not here to tell you an apocryphal story,” she said dryly. “Instead, I’m telling you that whatever  _ that _ is, it’s in the warning stage for rampancy. But if you’re so hung up on him…” She gave him a little, cold smile. “I  _ did _ warn you, just like I warned Altaïr fifty years ago.”

She turned the screen back on. For a moment, nothing happened as its blue glow filled the room, then Altaïr’s constructed image reappeared again.

“Maria,” he said, impatient, “are we done with the theatrics?”

“I was about to ask you the same.” She sat back in her chair, arms crossed, and made circling motion with her fingers. “Rewind. Tell me everything from the top.”

“The Brotherhood is corrupt,” Altaïr said without ceremony. “It’s unfeasible in its current state and I cannot allow it to stand any longer.”

“So what,” she shot back, “are you going to tear down an institute with thirty different planets under its control? I’ve heard that Abbas has been annexing more mining planets as of late - he’s beefing up the fleet. Again.”

“You don’t need to unmake the whole ship to change its course,” he said, serious, “you only need to -”

“- change the hands at the wheel, yes, I’ve heard it from you before and it remains unimpressive,” Maria said, brusque. “So now the question is - why are you  _ here?” _

This time, Altaïr faltered a bit. “You were once a part of the Brotherhood.”

“Once,” she repeated. “Then you disappeared and apparently died, and Malik  _ definitely _ died. Abbas took over, fucked the whole hog, took what we built and made it corporate. Did you come here to… what, convince us to join forces? To jump in a ship and start assassinating people in the dead of night again?”

Altaïr was conspicuously silent. Maria’s unkind face didn’t soften, but she leaned forward a bit in her seat. “Altaïr. How old were you when you died?”

“...Forty-eight years old.”

“Yeah. You still sound like it. Talk like it. I’m going to be turning a hundred in less than two years. Here’s the thing - you were stuck in the middle of nothing for fifty years, stuck right where you are, and everyone else? Well, they moved on or died. You’re not even the real Altaïr. You’re just a copy of him, still in the past.”

She shook her head and slowly, achingly, got up. Her cannon arm folded back into false skin. “Take your pretty little knife boy and get the fuck out of here. For old time’s sake and because I couldn’t keep you alive, I’m letting you both go. But pull another stunt like that on me, and I’ll shoot you both outta space.”

“Maria -”

“Don’t ‘Maria’ me,” she said, turning away from the screen. “It didn’t work back then and it won’t work now.”

 

Ezio had been very uninvolved in this conversation, but he witnessed enough of it to know that Altaïr no longer had an ally in Maria. No matter what else transpired between the not-AI and the pirate, she was not to be trusted any longer. Ezio rose from his seat and approached the terminal, taking care not to take any undue steps towards Thorpe. The conversation was over, and Ezio would deal with the aftermath later. For now, he had to secure Altaïr and his return to his own ship. Which was going to jump into hyperspace the second his shuttle touched down.

“That sounds like our cue to go,” Ezio wondered how a hologram could look so pained, but he wouldn’t have to wonder for very long as the terminal spat the chip back out and he cradled it in his hand, inspecting it for any damage. It looked fine, however, and he pressed it back into his neck, stiffening as it reconnected to his implants.


	4. Chapter 4

Altaïr reconnected with Ezio but he didn’t rush out to fill him as he usually did. Instead, he remained a small, black dot in the farthest corner of his consciousness, one that didn’t respond no matter what. He couldn’t speak with Ezio right now, not when he had so much on his mind.

What he felt was… it was loss, but not quite like the knife of grief. He… mourned. He mourned the memory of Maria as she had been - fierce and steadfast, compared to the embittered criminal she was now. He mourned Malik, gone too soon, never to be found again.

Her words had been cruel but she hadn’t been wrong. He  _ had _ lost so much time. Maybe too much time. Maria had become old, whereas Altaïr had been preserved like a fly in amber, frozen until it was time for him to fly again. He’d thought he’d be ready for this time by reading and questioning and learning, but some things couldn’t be learnt. Some things were only lost.

 

Ezio noted the withdrawn silence, but he did not pursue Altaïr into the depths of his mind. He needed his peace to digest what happened, and that only further proved that Thorpe was wrong; AI’s didn’t mope, didn’t grieve or regret.

Speaking of Thorpe, she made good on her word, letting him leave unharmed. She seemed a woman of her words, but she was still a dangerous criminal; that, Ezio could not ignore. So, after she’d seen fit to let her goonies frogmarch him back to his ship, he let slip a near translucent, mechanical feather. It was a tracker, designed to blend perfectly into its surroundings. Unless you saw it placed, no scanner would detect it. It was easy to disguise as they walked past a few containers in the landing bay.

Just in case. He’d prefer to know where this flying fortress was. Thorpe may be old, but she was still a threat. Especially now that she was no ally to him.

He half expected her to open fire once he was on his shuttle, but the  _ Cross _ ’ big guns stayed silent. The Firenze awaited its captain with bated breath. It was exactly as Ezio had predicted; as soon as the shuttle bay doors closed behind him, they jumped into hyperspace.

Once Ezio had managed to fill in a report with a half-truth version of events, he retired to his quarters, stripping off the tactical suit. After the day he’d had, he decided that an indulgent bath was in order. 

When he was soaking in a poor excuse of a bubble bath, he turned his attention to the silent passenger in his head.

“I’m sorry she was not what you expected.”

 

He registered Ezio addressing him but didn't reply. Instead, he continued to stay in his compressed form, silent and unresponsive, until Ezio stopped trying.

Then, he unfolded a little with a long, low sigh that floated through Ezio’s skull like fog.

_ Maybe she was right,  _ Altaïr said, his voice slowed by grief.  _ Perhaps I am stuck in the past. Blinded to what fifty years really meant. _

When the Apple had shown him Ezio, he hadn’t known what it meant. But when he  _ found  _ Ezio and he’d  _ come,  _ taken him out of the Eagle, taken him on… Altaïr had felt hope. Hope that all of this really was meant to go this way and that he was following the right steps. To lose Maria had been a blow. To lose her and to have her tell him he was too late went beyond that.

Half a lifetime lived and still, somehow, she’d made him feel as young as he’d been when they first met. 

 

“She has given up. You can’t do the same. Not if you’re really the man you claim to be.” Ezio didn’t know how personal their connection was, or how much Maria Thorpe’s assessment meant to Altaïr, but to him, nothing had changed. The Brotherhood continued to exist, even if she didn’t want it to. And what they did, what Ezio had seen, and done, was very real. And the more time he spent thinking of it, the more he could see sense in Altaïr’s tale of corruption. Even without personally carrying out dubious orders, Ezio would have found it suspicious that records were tampered with, people erased.

“You can’t give up on the Brotherhood, Altaïr.”

 

_ Of course not. I am just… contemplating the new changes this means. _

He wasn’t thinking about giving up. Instead, his thoughts circled friendships - and the losses that came with it. Altai supposed that Ezio would not be able to understand that, not when half the people Altaïr knew had been erased and he had been fed a different image of him all his life. But Ezio’s words raised another point for him.

_ Ezio, do you… understand… what I’m trying to do? The enormity of my task?  _ Altaïr would count himself fortunate that Ezio cooperated so easily, but the instincts of a lifetime prior warned him about easy gifts and the price tags attached to them. 

 

“ _ Our _ task. You can’t do this without me.” He knew. But something about Altaïr had flicked a switch in Ezio’s head. As if someone had finally opened a curtain he’d been wondering about for ten years. Ten years of being a special operative for the Brotherhood had shown Ezio every underside imaginable, but it took Altaïr’s discovery and his words for Ezio to understand why things had bothered him. Why he agreed so readily to assist an AI that may or may not be human. Why he was so eager to investigate and potentially stand against the Brotherhood.

To correct it, to heal it, because it was sick and rotting.

“...Altaïr, you may be in my head, but you do not know me well. I have done things I would rather forget, things that I deeply regret...and I never understood why I felt that way. I was following orders. I was serving the light. That’s what I believed. But when I met you...it was...just right. Like you were the missing piece of my puzzle.”

Ezio offered up his memories.

“Look at them. Anything you want to. You’ll understand.”

 

Altaïr regarded Ezio evenly.  _ I stayed my hand from your memories out of respect,  _ he warned.  _ And if I move in on them, there may be unexpected side-effects. _

Despite his words, he didn’t hesitate to dive into the offered trove of memories. Altaïr shot past recent memories like a loosed arrow, aiming for memories ten years old by now. He found Ezio as a young boy in Masyaf but dug deeper, dredged up more, until he located the memories soaked in blood.

-their hands moved together as they thrust the blade into someone’s throat - that had been his first kill, his first mission - after that, they all blurred into one long, bloody streak, one after the other - they’d trained him to counter-kill in Masyaf, but Ezio liked to add his own flair to things, a bloody, brutal flair -

As Altaïr pulled the memories up, the line between him and Ezio lost definition. Altaïr  _ was _ the one in those memories. He was the one painting someone’s brain over a steel wall, but he was also the one in bathwater, gasping and convulsing as all his implants lit up like miniature stars. Somewhere in the mix, Altaïr’s carefully guarded memories leaked out like toxin. Younger, alive, burning with determination, but also dying, dying alone in his ship with nothing but experimental technology and hope keeping him going.

 

Ezio bled with him as their exchange continued, the mixings of their memories painting the world in blood and pain. The most prominent parts of Altaïr were his last memories of living, and they were laced with agony. Ezio felt them on his own body, felt the permeation of being alone and lost and dying. It was terrifying when it came like this, unbidden, second-hand but frighteningly real, pouring right into him through his implants.

In exchange, Altaïr saw the rage, the bloodlust, the vengeance bound deep in Ezio’s soul. The memories he picked through were burning altars to Ezio’s buried past, shrouded in loss and anger, hatred and determination.

Ezio didn’t know which half of the exchange was worse, but he knew he’d somehow sunk below the water line of his bath and was struggling to breathe. He shot up, sputtering and gasping, coughing water out of his lungs.

 

Altaïr locked down his memories as soon as he realized what had happened, but it was too late. Ezio had gotten a full blast of his last moments. In return, Altaïr now had a decade of rage-tainted memories to sift through. The brief taste he’d gotten had only been the beginning; there was more in there, he could tell, more blood. More death. More anger, deep-seated, poisonous, constant anger.

He was still in-synch with Ezio, so much that he could feel the water on every inch of skin, but Altaïr couldn’t muster the effort to pull out. He lingered heavily in his limbs, buzzing with the aftermath of his memory dive.

 

The hypersensitivity of his skin turned the pleasantly warm bath into a scalding punishment. Ezio was quick to heave himself out of it, ignoring the swell of water that flooded onto the floor along with him. The floor would drain it and recycle it anyway.

He pulled a towel from the dispenser, running it over his face as he checked the mirror to see if he was still Ezio or if he had become Altaïr and aged ten, twenty years.

Ezio was both relieved and disappointed to find his own face staring back. Only then did he notice the silence in his head, which was a welcome relief after the flood of memories, but not a good sign when it came to his passenger.

“...I felt you. I felt like you.”

 

_...I said there would be side-effects. _

Altaïr was still locked up in Ezio, but he couldn’t move away. Not yet. The warm air of the bathroom curled over his -  _ their - _ skin and Altaïr shivered from the secondhand sensation.

_ There is still much about this process that we both don’t know. I was not meant to inhabit a body with someone else like this. Ideally, you would have more implants specifically designed to withstand my presence. _

Or he would have his own body. But android tech was limited to the Commonwealth and they didn’t allow any of theirs outside of their space.

 

Ezio still felt Altaïr right under his skin. He couldn’t help himself, running one hand over his arm, brushing over where he knew the implants to be. He shuddered with the double feedback of the sensation.

“Nevermind what is ideal, we have to make this work.”

Right now, every huff of warm air was an event, every whiff of the soapy bathwater was almost overpowering. Ezio dried his face, then his body. This exchange of memories had been...very palpable. He could practically taste Altaïr’s blood on his tongue.

“You saw them. My missions.” He was tense, all too aware what side of him Altaïr had viewed. Would he think of Ezio as his ‘chosen one’ if he knew just how much blood was on his hands alone?

 

_ I did. _

Altaïr had no physical hands anymore, no ears to hear with, no mouth to speak with, and yet the after-effects of Ezio’s memories stayed with him. If code could feel cold steel, then this was it. In a quiet, bitter way, Altaïr could expect this. He would not have been saddled with just anyone. If he was going to survive to raze down his former kingdom, then he needed a knife that had already tasted blood.

_ Just as you saw me die. _

 

Ezio stared at the mirror and he swore he could see more than just his own face, watching him with a guarded expression. It was a silent stand-off, each participant too full of knowledge of the other. It was the first time Ezio had felt such a bleed-back from Altaïr, and it was sobering. It was so easy to take Maria’s approach, to call Altaïr a ‘Turing AI’. But those feelings? That despair, that loneliness, that naked fear? That was human. No one could put any more doubt about it into Ezio. He knew what he felt.

“I’m...that should never have happened to you.”

Ezio wished he could reach out and let Altaïr know that his loneliness had found an end, for better or for worse. The need for comfort came from him, but he didn’t know if it was truly his emotion, or looped feedback of Altaïr’s.

It didn’t matter either way. He couldn’t act on it even if he wanted to.

“Did you see me, back then, in your Apple, as I am? With everything I have done?”

Probably not, because Altaïr seemed withdrawn at best.

 

_ Did I see you? Yes. Did I see everything that came with you? No. The Apple was not so precise and I did not have the chance to study it in depth. _

Altaïr carefully, gently, pulled himself away from Ezio. He pulled them out of synch, stepped out of harmony with him, until there was a safe amount of distance between them again, and Altaïr no longer felt the world in overwhelming double force.

_ Don’t take my disappointment to be remonstration of you. I am… angered by the depths that the Brotherhood has fallen. What it has become. _

 

“It’s difficult not to take that personal after contributing to the cause like that.” Ezio felt the presence recede. He was in part relieved, but also a little bereft. The sheer intensity of their double sensations had been a welcome distraction from the memories Altaïr had dug up.

“I have spilled more blood than I care to recount. And I questioned it then, but I never stopped. I never thought.”

Ezio ran his hands through his wet hair, slicking it out of face.

“You wondered how I could...accept what you said so readily. Maybe I already knew, but I never wanted to admit that I did.”

The Brotherhood was deeply wrong in what it was doing now, so very far from what they claimed to believe. Ezio didn’t want to see it destroyed. He wanted to see it stand by what it preached.

 

_ I understand. Better late than never, Ezio. We can only do what we can. _

Later, when Ezio slept, Altaïr would dive deeper into these memories and learn more. Right now, however, he didn’t want to end up oversharing the contents of his own head. Even now, those were fiercely, strictly personal.

_ Rest,  _ he instructed.  _ There is still more for us to do. And… Ezio. Thank you. I understand now. _

 

Ezio nodded tersely, not sure what to make of Altaïr’s reaction. Understanding didn’t always bring empathy, and he wasn’t sure if he wanted Altaïr to dive down to the roots of the anger that lay in every mission, every kill. 

But he had taken on this human passenger. Had accepted him in his head, which meant that everything Ezio was lay open before Altaïr, one way or another.

“We’re due back at Base. Maybe I can see about getting more implants...we can discuss this later.”

Ezio pulled on something loose to sleep in as he crawled into his bed. He’d had a long day, he’d been shot at, crawled through vents and threatened by pirate grandmas. 


	5. Chapter 5

_ Altaïr was in another training simulation again. He was in a black, form-hugging bodysuit, his face obscured by a mask, and two of his classmates stood in the sim with him, dressed identically. They stood in a tense triangle formation, ready for the sim to turn on. _

_ He counted the numbers down under his breath; no matter how the sims varied, they always started after the same count. _

_ One… two… three… four…! _

_ The pre-space city of Venice came to life under his feet. Altaïr had never seen it before outside of datapad pictures and holovids, but somehow, he also  _ **_knew_ ** _ it. He took off running. His classmates followed him. _

_ Today, the objective was simple. They had to get from Point A to Point B without suffering casualties in an urban environment. _

_ His footsteps created a soothing tempo to measure himself by. As they got past the first gate, however, the simple run became something else. _

_ “Gunfire!” Rowan called out behind him. Following her words, a sleet of blaster fire rained down around their ears, coring small pits into the asphalt. Altaïr sped up and ducked under the archway of a building and the other two did the same. Breathing evenly, he searched for a different way forward, and found an overhanging arch that hung over the lip of a building across the street from him. If he darted under there, then it would protect him from the blasters while he climbed up. _

_ He fortified himself - and sprinted forward. One blast nearly caught him, but Altaïr swerved and avoided it. He slammed against the building with a gasp, but didn’t pause to orient himself and leapt up to catch the edge of a windowsill. He scrambled up with a monkey’s grace until he found an open window that he could pull himself through. He didn’t know where his classmates were, but that wasn’t the purpose of this mission. _

_ He navigated through the empty apartment until he found another window that he could pull himself through into the adjoining apartment. Like that, Altaïr made good progress across the city without ever suffering a single injury. _

_ Just as he was about to leap over to the next apartment building, however, the ground rocked and a plume of dirt rose into the air. Explosives.  _

_ As if that weren’t enough, new images loaded into the sim. The roof he was on was now guarded by two guard-sims, who immediately raised their blasters when they registered him. “Get down!” one shouted aggressively, but that was all it could get out before Altaïr stabbed through its eyes and into its brain. _

_ Its fellow reacted, but not fast enough. Altaïr darted over to him and with a vicious kick, broke his knee until it pointed in the opposite direction. The sim stumbled and he brought his fist down to smash its nose. _

_ Funny, Altaïr thought as he spun around and leapt away. I don’t kill like that. _

_ Another sim popped up as he ran over the roof. Altaïr kept running and then jumped up at the last moment and brought his feet down on its chest, instantly pulverizing its ribs and organs with the full hammer blow of both his momentum and his weight. Imaginary blood sprayed over his body-suit until he was more red than black, and the sims kept coming and dying, over and over, each more brutal than the last… _

An unexpected brainwave from Ezio broke Altaïr out of his memory-stupor and he snapped out of his daze. For a moment, he expected himself to be still in the body-suit, still fighting, but he was just here, in the palace of Ezio’s mind.

It took effort to peel away the membrane of Ezio’s memories, but Altaïr carefully and slowly pulled them back until they drifted back to where they belonged - in Ezio’s head.

It was becoming a habit of his now. Faced with the inability to sleep when Ezio turned down for the night, Altaïr turned to surfing Ezio’s memories instead to occupy himself. That last memory had not been the bloodiest one, depressingly enough. Altaïr had experienced so much gore that he was growing numb to it. Ezio killed like he was angry at something; sooner or later, one of his surfing sessions would uncover what that was.

 

-x-

 

_ When I was still alive,  _ Altaïr mused as they touched down on the pleasure planet of Hedonia,  _ this planet wasn’t even suitable for organic life. And now, you’re taking shore leave on it. _

The formerly uninhabitable barren rock had been transformed into a lush, verdant paradise that was riotous with life. Imported wildlife had taken over the planet with presumptuous ease and now birds of paradise confidently strutted around the place like carnival girls, expecting crumbs from newly-arrived travelers, while hooting monkeys lurked on the edges of the airstrip and jealously eyed food vendors. The smooth, artificially-created ocean was visible from the space docks, and today it was a pleasant bright blue under the pink Hedonian sun.

_ So we own a pleasure planet now.  _ Altaïr sounded resigned. After spending a cumulative one hundred and sixty-eight hours inside of Ezio’s memories, very few things about the Brotherhood surprised him. Things like “ _ the Brotherhood owns a planet entirely built for vacationing and hedonism”  _ and “ _ Ezio clearly has some deep-seated anger issues” _ barely fazed him now.

They’d landed in the biggest city on Hedonia, St. Junipero. It was enormous but its young age showed in its wide, perfectly-planned streets and metropolitan flair - it had not lived long enough to collect the grime and character of a true city. What little personal culture it had was built upon fierce materialism, unashamed excess, and splendidly self-absorbed drama; it was release and an escape.

 

“There’s a few things I can complain about with you, but taking shore leave here is not one of them.” Ezio sighed as he stretched, watching his crew scatter into the pretty city. All of them deserved some time to recover from the brush with Thorpe and a few other close call missions, though the ship had only been in real danger once or twice. Still, Ezio found it easier to work with people who weren’t running on fumes.

And he included himself in that number. He desperately needed to let off some steam. With Altaïr in his head, the cases of hypersensitivity had dramatically increased, and there were some drawbacks to always being in solitude when they took place; Ezio was in desperate need of some intimacy. A stranger would do, a professional if worse came to worst.

“It’s going to be a good few hours. Relax in the sun, grab some drinks, maybe meet a pretty girl...”

 

Ezio still smelled like recycled ship air and a credit-heavy bank account. As soon as he got into the main thoroughfare that led away from the docks, he was beset upon by peddlers who thrust their goods at him with fearless intensity.

“Watches?” one man demanded as he shoved a case of them into Ezio. “You want watches?”

“Take picture,” a woman offered, holding up a camera. “Take pictures, send them back. To girlfriend. Pictures.”

“Hungry? Good food, cheap food -”

“Taxi to St. Cedaris, taxi to St. Cedaris -”

“Want some company?” A young man in a neon mesh shirt and near-transparent pants blew Ezio a kiss.

_ I see that  _ **_this_ ** _ aspect of pleasure planets has not changed at all,  _ Altaïr said a little sourly as he eyed the crowd around Ezio.  _ I told you to take your captain’s stripes off before we unboarded. _

 

“I don’t mind the attention. I’ve had worse.” Ezio calmly parted the crowd of nuisances, though he gave the escort a second glance. Not bad. If he found nothing else tonight, he might give the pretty man a call or a visit. But Ezio looked a certain way, and that usually afforded him company without coin. 

“Scusi,” he pushed aside another salesman and found what he was looking for; a large pool attached to a small hotel and bar. That looked like the perfect place to find some company.

“About my offtime...I do not mind sharing it with you, but I don’t wish to make you uncomfortable. Do you wish to have a backseat to any potential company I take tonight? I tend to let beauty guide me, and it lands both men and women in my bed.”

 

_...are you offering to share? _ Altaïr asked him, amused and mildly bewildered. He hadn’t thought about how things would work out with Ezio enjoying someone else’s company and he staying in his head - it hadn’t really come up in between the fighting and the captaining.

_ I think I will withdraw and let you do it alone. As for preferences - it has never mattered to me. I never had much time for it anyway. _

 

“I have no problem sharing things with you. It’s been fifty years; you must miss some things more than others.” Ezio couldn’t imagine going five days without letting loose a little, and this time away on missions had been a stretch of that already. He couldn’t imagine Altaïr could be cold and disinterested, not with how human he felt whenever he spread himself around for Ezio to feel.

“It wouldn’t be the first time someone’s observed me,” he smirked to himself.

 

A little startled, Altaïr laughed. Laughing as an AI was an odd sensation. If talking was a smooth surge of data, then laughing was a hiccup in the system, as if he was never meant to do that. His amusement pulsed through Ezio like warm sunlight and Altaïr said,  _ I know. Sometimes, I come across memories I didn’t intend to look into. _

The first time he’d done that, he’d been embarrassed. The second, a little shocked. After the third time, Altaïr grew resigned to the fate of accidentally stumbling on a memory or two of Ezio reaming someone through the mattress.

_ Arousal is not something I spent much time contemplating in my current form. It’s difficult to translate for someone who does not have a body.  _ Possible, most likely, considering Altaïr could feel emotions as strongly as he had when he had been flesh and blood, but the dark, lonely ship containing nothing but his corpse wasn’t exactly an ideal setting.

 

“Well, aren’t you lucky that I have a body then,” Ezio winked at the bartender who gave him a rather strange look for his words, “and you could be to, if you mix me something special.”

The bartender was game, quick hands serving Ezio something vaguely alluring that came with a very friendly smile when he offered his wrist to pay.

With his drink in hand, Ezio moved out to the patio. The pool was decently populated, and he saw some potential out there.

“I could make you feel things you’ve forgotten, Altaïr.”

 

_ You are a flirt,  _ Altaïr replied as he looked around. Coming out of the bar, they were greeted to a large courtyard that had a large, square-shaped pool in the center. Sunbathers lounged on red-and-white striped deck chairs close to the edge of the pool, while people sat under rainbow-colored parasols farther off, nursing fruity cocktails in sweating glasses. The pool itself was on the edge of a cliff with nothing but a transparisteel divider keeping the swimmers from floating to their doom, and the water was clear and clean.

Altaïr idly scanned the area with the combat aid before he gave Ezio an ironic “all clear”.  _ You’re strangely comfortable with the idea of having a watcher in your head while you sleep with someone. _

 

“Not a watcher. A feeler.” There was probably a more eloquent way to put their situation, but Ezio had no interest in finding it. He took a sip of his drink, pulled down the hood and scanned the area for a different kind of potential. He was definitely going to get into that pool in the next ten minutes.

“I really don’t mind. It’s not a thing of shameful privacy for me. You know that. You’re in my head.”

 

_ I don’t mind, Ezio.  _ He could always withdraw anyway, so it ultimately didn’t matter.   _ But never mind me. Enjoy yourself. _

Ezio wouldn’t be lacking for company. There had already been a few interested looks in his direction. Altaïr merely turned away and concentrated on something else.


	6. Chapter 6

Maybe it had been a little ambitious to be this greedy. Ezio contemplated some choices he made in life as they were happening, but this particular choice had been made an hour ago. He wasn’t regretting it, per se, but perhaps he should have considered practicality before appetite. It was a thing with him, he went with his passions, he lived his life in the moment-

“Gonna! Gonna-!”

His reverie was interrupted by the jerking, spasming motion of the young man under him. Ezio had a good handful of silver hair in one fist and he’d been pressing his face into a nice neck with a good pace keeping him going, but it appeared that the ride was already over. At least for his participant. The young man - did he introduce himself by name? He couldn’t remember - collapsed with a grin on his face, breathing hard and sweating harder. His hair was growing darker by the second. Ezio let go of him, moving back a little. Well, he wasn’t entirely finished just yet, but fucking that one any further was bound to feel like ploughing a lifeless doll, or something. Boneless and spent, Ezio’s companion rolled away.

But not to worry.

Ezio reached over, tracing a hand up an inner thigh that had trembled beneath him once already tonight. She seemed to be perking back up, ready to pick up the slack her companion was showing.

An affirming smile and a little push had Ezio on his back, the woman clambering up to finish what her boyfriend had failed to. She felt great, silky, smooth, warm and welcoming. Ezio groaned and closed his eyes. Her ride wouldn’t take long at all, especially if he let go the way he intended to.

 

Altaïr had intended to ignore Ezio through this entire endeavor. However, it was more than a little difficult when Ezio’s brain went into spasms periodically next to him.

_ Both at once?  _ He commented as his presence inside of Ezio’s head cautiously bloomed, like a flower sensing sunlight after darkness. Ezio’s implants glowed a little brighter as Altaïr made his presence known.  _ You are certainly active. _

The woman under Ezio wailed, her head thrown back. The pulse of  _ satisfaction-bliss-lust  _ from Ezio jangled through his brain like a coin down a drain and bounced into Altaïr, throwing him off-kilter for a second. He grounded himself and spread through Ezio in a gentle rush.

 

Whatever was happening came from places inside of Ezio that did not usually respond when he was having sex. His impacts flared, his skin burned and tingled, his head emptied. Usually, none of these things were pleasant, but Altaïr’s timing had been fairly impeccable as Ezio’s orgasm ripped him out of coherent thought to process what was happening. He couldn’t pay attention to the woman under him or the young man hungrily watching them. All he could feel was this tidal wave, breaking over a dam it usually couldn’t match. It was good. It was sensational. It was breathtaking. It was-

Black. He couldn’t see, couldn’t remember.

It only lasted a moment, but Ezio could swear he saw stars and had a chat with God in that very second. When he came back from his high, both of his companions looked at him with vague concern and question.

“Holy shit,” he laughed, ignoring their confusion and letting himself drop to the clean side of the bed.

 

Altaïr hadn’t actually intended to do that. It had been… well, maybe it had been a little bit of curiosity and a little bit of interest that made him open up both their senses, and then. Well.

Ezio’s brain activity went absolutely  _ wild _ during orgasm. He lit up like a star to Altaïr and the force of it ripped Altaïr from his grounding and tore through his orderly systems like a gale.  _ Something _ happened but Altaïr didn’t have a word in his now-endless vocabulary to describe it. His data got scrambled and, like a ship ripped from its mooring, Altaïr floated in an ocean without knowing how he got there.

_ Oh,  _ he said intelligently.  _ I did not foresee that. _

It made a peculiar amount of sense - Ezio’s body had already been in high gear and Altaïr had added the strange hypersensitivity from synchrony into it. Hence, world-shattering orgasm.

Still.

_ I didn’t know data could even  _ **_do_ ** _ that. _

 

“Then you are gifted,” Ezio panted, entirely ignorant of his companions retreating from the bed. By the time he stopped spacing out and returning to reality, he was alone in the room and the air conditioning kicked up and began to replace instead of recycle. Good. The room had that telltale scent and could definitely use a thorough airing.

“Dio mio, Altaïr, that...did you  _ feel _ that? I don’t think I’ve ever come so hard in my life.”

And Ezio had no qualms with talking about it either as he laid back and stretched out. He’d have housekeeping replace the sheets before tonight, but for the moment, he was content to lay here, stare at the ceiling and bask in how good it had felt.

 

_ I did.  _ Altaïr let himself go once he managed to get all his scattered bits into order. He sank down into Ezio like skin under his skin and pressed his code against the inside of his body, against the outline of his soul, until they were nearly one and the same.

With the aftershock of his orgasm, it didn’t feel uncomfortable. It was actually rather pleasant, like sunbathing.

_ You blacked out for three seconds. _

 

“I think I went to heaven.” Those might have been the best three seconds of his life, and Ezio was serious about that. He wanted a repeat. He wanted that every time. He didn’t say it, and he tried not to think it, but the idea clung to his mind.

“But you felt it too...was it good for you?” He smiled, eyes closed again as he felt Altaïr settle all over him. It was kind of pleasant. As if someone very lightly rested on his chest and then somehow melted into Ezio’s body. Which didn’t sound great, but it felt nice.

 

_ It was unexpected, but pleasant in its own way.  _ It felt like being a step closer to human. Altaïr had  _ felt _ everything for one intense moment, as if he wasn’t just a passenger in someone’s body but rather someone with his own shape, his own form.

_ It almost makes me miss having my own body,  _ he said, briefly wistful.

 

“If it would be possible...” Ezio didn’t finish the thought. It would never be a real body, and it wouldn’t feel the same. There were cybernetic experiments that pushed the boundaries a little more, but nothing replaced the complexity of the human body just yet.

Ezio tried to move around inside of himself, to be a presence alongside Altaïr. He might never be able to touch again, but Ezio could try to maybe ease the extreme isolation.

“I would say feel free to use my body, but that might take things a little far.”

 

_ I don’t think I could ever actually wrest control of your body,  _ Altaïr said in turn. Maybe he could for a few seconds, but actual motor control? That was beyond his current capacities. He’d probably give Ezio a stroke trying.

_ The Commonwealth has androids. I thought about taking the Eagle there before, once or twice, to obtain one but they keep their technology under tight watch. And disclosing my presence to anyone would have… dire consequences. There is nothing like me, as far as I know. _

 

“I’m not talking about wresting control. Can’t I give it to you? Like...let you backseat drive for a moment?” Ezio mused, wondering about something Thorpe had said. She’d called Altaïr a Turing AI, but Ezio had no idea what that was. He had to remember to put a little research into that, because it could very well be important. Maybe there was more out there than Altaïr knew. 

 

_ I… don’t know. I can’t say I considered it.  _ A lie. He had thought about it before but had left it unmentioned so as not to alarm Ezio. They trusted each other, he liked to think, but Altaïr had been with Ezio for only a few months now.

_ Would you like to try? _

 

“Why not?” It would be beyond foolish of Altaïr to do something dangerous to Ezio. Without him, the AI would be lodged in a dead body, powerless unless he achieved absolute, full control. And besides, Ezio trusted him. Altaïr had had plenty of opportunities to get Ezio killed and none of them had even been close to injury.

“Do as you wish.”

 

_ Alright. _

Altaïr carefully pulled deeper into Ezio’s body until he felt like he had filled up every inch of him. He took his legs, his arms, his torso, until he felt them like they were his own limbs. When he willed one to move, it barely twitched before coming to a stop.

_ Interesting.  _ Ezio’s limbs felt heavy, as if he were trying to manipulate mannequin arms rather than a human.  _ I don’t think your current implants allow me to take control of you. I would need full, unfettered access to your brain and at that point… well, we might as well become one person. I don’t know how fidelious my brain scan would be if we did that. _

 

“Is that possible? To become one person? Or would it sort of...wipe one or the other out?” Ezio had to remember to blink and not focus too much on the alien sensation of his limbs moving without him willing it so. It felt like he was buried in quicksand, or something heavy covered all of him, pushing his body this way and that. It wasn’t unpleasant, but he wouldn’t recommend the experience.

“Come on, try to lift the left arm.”

 

They worked in tandem to lift, though it was uneasy work. Altaïr felt like he was holding one side of a ribbon and Ezio was holding the other, and they were trying to balance an egg in the middle. If one pulled too hard, the balance was lost, and fine motor control was closer to an idea than reality.

_ Theoretically, we would become a whole new person entirely. My memories to yours, your brain over mine. _

Altaïr brushed the hand over the bed stiffly. The bed was still warm with body heat and…

_ Oh, gross.  _ His expression twisted when he touched a damp spot and he dropped his side of the ribbon, leaving it all to Ezio again.  _ I  _ **_felt_ ** _ that. _

 

Ezio laughed, couldn’t help himself, really. With his body back under his control, he moved into the bathroom after hitting the button for room service. It should be some form of robot, most hotels had long since abandoned the traditional human worker. Which was why Ezio didn’t bother closing the bathroom door behind himself as he stepped in.

A look in the mirror revealed that his companions had good teeth and knew how to use them. Ezio inspected his neck.

“I look like I got mauled. That boy was a lot feistier without a cock in him.”

 

_ I think you spent a healthy amount of time in both of them,  _ Altaïr commented as he continued to test out his control of Ezio’s body. He tugged his fingers, then pulled his legs, trying to get them to move this way and that. It wasn’t really useful, not unless he wanted to make Ezio twitch as if he had a condition, but it was mildly amusing.

In the back of his mind, Altaïr quietly reconsidered the boundaries between himself and Ezio now. Most people…  _ didn’t _ just have happy sex with someone else while knowing a third party was going to be involved as a voyeur. He wasn’t sure how he felt about that, save for a dull pang of brief, fleeting envy. This made him miss having a body more than anything else had. To feel… to touch… and to be touched. It was one of the inherent parts of being human that Altaïr didn’t know he could miss until he lost it for good.

_ Should I expect a repeat performance? _

 

“Did you like it? You’re welcome to join in, you know. Right before I blacked out, it felt amazing, and that was you.” If only all guests to his body were courteous enough to dispense earth shattering orgasms, Ezio would be a happy, content man. Probably.

He hopped into the shower, washing the sweat and mess off of his skin. He already looked the part, he didn’t need to smell it too.

Between the AC and the housekeeping, everything should be clean and fresh by the time Ezio was finished.

 

_ Happy to be of aid, _ he replied dryly.  _ Combat aid and pleasure supplement.  _ His tone had no bite in it, however - he had enjoyed himself too. Ezio offering to let him have this was a lot more than what others might consider. Of course, there was still the moral issue of Altaïr being in Ezio’s head while his partners were unaware… but they were also killers and mercenaries. Quibbling over some things got petty down the line.

_ What else are we doing? Aside from drinking and sleeping around, that is. Talk to people? Friends, family? _

 

“Got a friend I’ve sent a message to, but he’s unlikely to respond before we drop by his colony. Other than that, we don’t have anything lined up.” Ezio’s expression hardened as he felt the question in Altaïr. He wouldn’t get away without saying here, not when the man was in his mind and could feel his conflict.

“...I don’t have family anymore. There’s no one left to call.”

Cautiously, Ezio pulled the memory out and offered it up. He didn’t particularly want to live through it again, but it was easier than waiting for Altaïr to find it himself.

 

He’d stepped on a nerve. Altaïr hovered uneasily, debating whether or not to apologize, until Ezio drew up a memory for him. After brief hesitation, Altaïr pushed his fingers into it and breathed it in, slow and measured. He was learning how to navigate these memories without overwhelming both of them and if he did it like this, delicate and careful, and parceled it out for himself, then he wouldn’t get lost in them or risk sharing his own.

Through Ezio’s eyes, he saw his family. Giovanni and Maria. Federico, Claudia, and Petruccio. He felt his love, his protectiveness, and his loyalty, and closely following it, he tasted grief infected with black rage. Injustice.

Altaïr watched it long enough to see their deaths before he pulled away, subdued. So that was the answer to Ezio’s constant, underlying rage.

_ I am sorry for your loss,  _ he said as he extended a sympathetic hand out for Ezio. He crossed the divide until some of his presence warmed the space under his skin, like sunlight on water.  _ Do you know who is responsible? _

 

“I killed them a long time ago. The men responsible. The men who murdered my family for nothing more than-” Ezio cleared his throat, trying not to feel the memory, the rage buried deep inside of him that it conjured. If he pictured their faces, all he could recall was finding their dead bodies, strewn all over the house, Petruccio and Claudia murdered in their beds. 

The water of the shower felt cold, only the vague, gentle touch warmed him now.

“It gave me no peace. I thought it would. I hunted them. I tore them apart. But it did not bring my family back,” Ezio stared at the metal fixture, felt his teeth grind together uncomfortably. The rage was still there. Buried deep and yet, closer than ever.

“The Brotherhood gave me the means. The training. The information. I was grateful, I did not ask questions. I killed what I was told to, who I was ordered to. A perfect weapon, just point and kill. I’m not proud of it.”

 

_ The unhappy truth about death is that it rarely gives anyone succor - not to those with the heart left to be affected by it, at any rate. The only value in a death is what it does to world after it. _

Altaïr watched Ezio’s mind push through his memories. In return, he gently pulled his thoughts away from them, like guiding a lost lamb back to its herd. There was nothing worth considering in those memories now, not after vengeance had been had and the only thing they offered now was pain.

_ Feel its weight keenly. Death is a last resort. People like us, those who are most capable of meting it out, we must always keep that in mind or else we forget the value of life. _

Ezio had given a piece of himself to Altaïr. So as he said those words, Altaïr solemnly unwrapped one of his closely-guarded memories and offered it back to him. In it, he was twenty-four years old again and steeped in arrogance, removed from empathy. He killed an innocent man for the crime of being in the wrong place and, in return, fate seized him and broke his proud spine over her knee.

_ A valuable lesson, still remembered. _

 

Ezio let it play out in front of him, feeling a faint echo of what Altaïr had been, how he’d thought, how he’d felt. It wasn’t the fully fledged bleed they’d had before, but it was vivid enough for him to understand its meaning. He kept his eyes shut, trying to detail the memory and add it to its own. Whether they wanted to or not, he and Altaïr were already well on their way to becoming united, as one person or two, they’d still have to figure out. Ezio didn’t feel like he was losing anything of himself. He just felt like he was learning more about Altaïr, a man he admired, and now, a man he cherished as a friend. Even if he was just in his head.

“It seems we’ve both been fools and suffered for it.”

He shut off the water, pulling a towel carelessly around his waist as he stepped out of the steamed glass.

“We can plan our next move in the next couple of days. I’ve done enough to tide me over for a while. I’d rather spend my free time helping out a friend.”

 

_ You are a generous man, Ezio, and you possess an uncommonly good heart. Never forget that. _

They fell into a comfortable silence as Ezio got dressed. Once they left the hotel room and made their way down the sunbaked beach, he spoke up again.

_ I had hoped that Maria would assist us, but her refusal does not change matters beyond adding a new shade of difficulty. Do you remember what I said about the Apple? _

 

“Vaguely. But tell me more. Apart from fortune telling, did it have abilities?” Ezio picked a path along the beach, now and then glancing back subtly. You never could be too careful, especially when carrying a secret as big as a Turing AI of the Brotherhood’s founder in your head.

 

The bright gold sand of the beach shimmered in the heat and the white, froth-chained waves lapped at the shore in regular, soothing intervals. Little sweeper droids combed the beach on constant rotations to pluck up any litter, so the scenery always looked untouched by human pollution, and this section was decently free of company, providing an uninterrupted view of the beach and the tumultuous, green forest that bordered it.

_ It affects time and space. It warps reality around it. And most alarmingly of all, it compels the minds of men to its will. _

He had not had the Apple long enough in his possession to unlock its full range of abilities, but Altaïr had seen it in action once before - and had the unfortunate chance to use it himself. It was a wicked tool and some days, when his melancholy overtook his rationality, he wished he’d never encountered it to begin with.

_ I did not explain to you how the struggle for power between Abbas and I - the one that caused my death - started. It was over the Apple, you see. The schism that formed between us had already been present, but it was the Apple’s allure that finally prompted him into action. He believed that it was our prerogative - our  _ **_right_ ** _ \- to use it against others. For a bloodless peace, he said,  _ Altaïr recounted, growing bitter. He had wanted to trust Abbas up until the very end. Even when the schism formed and both Maria and Malik advised him to deal with it permanently, he’d allowed his faith to overcome his reason. Perhaps he had simply been naive.

_ There was a time that I needed to leave Brotherhood space to contend with another issue. I left the Apple in Malik’s care, and Maria and I departed. We came back a year later to discover Malik murdered and Abbas in possession of the Apple. When I sought to confront him, he used its power to turn the entire Brotherhood on me.  _ Anger leaked through his words now and Altaïr stopped a little to compose himself again. To distract himself, he stretched his senses into Ezio and felt the warm sand underfoot, the salty sea breeze and his - their - face, and then continued.

_ I killed many of my brothers that day. Too many. But the Brotherhood was hundreds-strong by then and I could not hope to face them down by myself. So I took the brain scanner and fled on my ship. After that… well. You know what happens after that. _

 

It was the missing link of Altaïr’s tale that Ezio had never asked for, but needed nonetheless. It explained what had catapulted the Eagle to be where she’d been found, it explained how the history of the Brotherhood could be so drastically changed, without anyone raising an alarm. Because Abbas possessed the means to change free will itself. And he’d used it.

That alone warranted him a future date with justice. The Brotherhood needed to know the truth, needed to judge Abbas’ actions without the influence of this artifact.

A target, a list. That’s what Ezio needed. That’s what they needed to compile.

“So I have to find that Apple. And Abbas. He has betrayed the Brotherhood. Every principle we ever believed. He sits atop a throne of lies.” 

It sounded simple, but Ezio couldn’t just kill the man. No matter how easy it was to picture.

 

_ That is our ultimate goal, yes. But it is not so easily accomplished. I would keep you away from the Apple’s light for as long as possible, so that you will never have to fight it for your own mind. It is too dangerous to risk. So we keep our targets discreet. We work our way up the chain until we are armed, prepared, and informed. Knowledge is as valuable as any blade. _

It was good to know that Ezio remained firmly on his side. Altaïr moved closer to him until they were nearly in synch again, and he could feel every whisper of wind, every little grain underfoot.

_ First, we find the man who betrayed Malik. We find Jonah Prescott. He had been the only one who was close enough to Malik to betray him so quickly and thoroughly - and his quick rise through the ranks after Abbas’ ascension makes me suspicious.  _ Before, Prescott had been a lowly lab intern. His quick mind had seen him promoted to Malik’s personal assistant, but that mind came with a snake’s personality and he’d always eyed Malik’s titles jealously.

_ I understand that he is now one of the top scientists in the Brotherhood, but that shouldn’t pose too much of an obstacle for you. _

 

He did have access to most things in Masyaf. However, an obstacle remained in the shape of the advanced scanners and hardware tests that were mandatory when approaching the heart of the Brotherhood. Even Ezio wouldn’t pass those without a thorough inspection.

“I can’t just walk in. He’s not in a division that I can access easily. He’s in R&D...and I think I know what kind of toys he wants to play with.”

Ezio found another drink, this one just a beer in a bottle as he took over a chair and stretched out in front of the view.

“Is there any chance there’s more where that Apple of yours came from?”

 

_ Quite possibly. Malik and I had been studying the Apple before I left, and we had evidence that said there were more of them out there. Hundreds, if we were fortunate. Millions, if we were not. The Precursors were a vast and ancient civilization, and their technology was so beyond ours that it is laughable. _

Altaïr tasted the beer through Ezio’s tongue, though it was slightly off and he registered more of the hops than he wanted to. Yet it was novel, so he kept it up as he spoke.

_ I know you’re worried about the scanners. But I think I have a solution to that. I am, after all, possibly the most advanced AI-like entity in creation. If you were to get me inside their systems, I could open the way for you. _

 

“That sounds risky. If you’re in their system, they can isolate you. They can blind you, trap you. You are the smartest AI I’ve ever seen, but you’re limited to this chip.” Ezio didn’t need to be a technical genius to understand the shortcomings of his artificial companion.

“It’s not like I can make a backup copy of you. Altaïr, you’re the only piece of you that remains, I really don’t intend to lose you.”

 

_ All things come with an element of risk,  _ he said.  _ After all, I could say the same to you, Ezio - you are limited to this body. You are the only you that exists. And yet you risk your life on every job, do you not? _

 

“I’m not the one with the truth of our cause written under my name. I’m not the one the Brotherhood will believe after Abbas falls. I’m your blade, Altaïr.”

Ezio made it perfectly clear where he stood.

 

_ Oh Ezio,  _ Altaïr said with a surge of warmth.  _ You value yourself too little. You are as important as I am in this endeavor. You are the one I saw. _

 

“You saw me because of this. It makes sense. So you’d know to trust me, and that I would carry out this...mission in your name. With your hand, uh, mind, to guide me. That seems like a good fate to me.” Ezio wished, again, that he could look Altaïr in the face. This man, reduced to just an AI, was still infinitely more impressive than the writings Ezio had studied at the academy. The man who was pulling Ezio away from a vengeful young man and making him into a real assassin, an agent of the true Brotherhood. 

“I was meant for this.”

 

_ And now we both have our parts to play. So please - Ezio. Trust me as I trust you, and get me into their systems so that I may play my part. What we do is greater than the two of us. _

 

“Alright. Together then, for the Brotherhood. The real Brotherhood.”


	7. Chapter 7

The mission to interrogate Prescott didn’t take long to arrange. Ezio had a thousand reasons to touch ground on Masyaf and his arrival wasn’t met with any suspicion, or with any invitation from the head of the Order for a talk. Ezio took it as a good omen, but he still didn’t feel all that great about breaking and entering into the sacred fortress.

 

_ Sacred?  _ Altaïr repeated with a chuckle.  _ It is merely a building, nothing more. Are universities and military bases also hallowed ground as well in the 24th century? _

Masyaf was bigger than he remembered. Back then, it had started as a military base for his operations. Then, as he began to recruit more people for his cause, a small school had been added, along with living quarters.

Now, all of that was considered the little historical core of Masyaf and everything else of importance was housed elsewhere. Like a curving shell, it extended out of the core in an ongoing spiral, with different sections dedicated to military work, housing, education, industry, and even entertainment, and each section was marked off with a giant wall that followed the curve until it formed the outer wall that protected all of Masyaf. 

Altaïr couldn’t get close enough to see, but he was certain that every kilometer span of wall contained enough anti-aircraft and shield piercing missiles to hold off a siege from all quarters. A network of transparisteel tunnels and platforms ran between each wall; a city over a city. Solar lights dotted their underbellies so that the people below still got sunlight.

_ I feel old,  _ he remarked as he observed how the sky overhead of Masyaf gave the telltale shimmer of shields.  _ Back then, Masyaf had a holding capacity of a thousand people, and we considered that overkill. This… this is a citadel. _

The city itself was a sharp contrast to St. Junipero. Whoever had designed the curving pattern had not spared much thought for aesthetics, and each building was blandly block-like, functional, and grey. At least there was plenty of greenery planted all over the city, though it probably served another function as well. Maybe to keep providing breathable air if Masyaf was blocked off.

_ Calling both the fortress and the city around it Masyaf is a little confusing though. _

 

“You’re nitpicking. Are you nervous?” Ezio found that talking under his breath didn’t only make him look crazy, it was also an effective way of communicating with Altaïr. 

He scanned the wall again, planning the route up and how to disable any secondary alarms not connected to the main grid.

“Are you old enough to remember the Vatican? It’s kind of like that. Just with more laser grids.”

 

_ Ha ha, laugh it up.  _ Truth be told, Altaïr was a little jittery. This was his first stealth mission since death and revival, and he was working with unfamiliar tools in a different role.  _ Whoever handles security will ensure that every network of importance is closed to the general system. Get inside the military section and wait until it’s dark before you break in. Security shouldn’t be too stringent for now. _

 

“And what should I do, just wait in a quiet corner? Take a nap?” Despite his tone, Ezio was already looking for a way into the compound, climbing up the wall that surrounded the fortress. It was accessible, if you were trained for it. None of his implants would alert the security system.

“Huh. That’s new. Abbas got a moat.”

It wasn’t a moat, it was a belt of suspiciously blue water that ringed the inner compound. Whatever it was for, it would make for a good landing. At least, Ezio hoped so as he leapt off of the wall.

 

_ Find something to do, you’re a top operative of the Brotherhood.  _ Altaïr half-expected the water to melt them, but nothing happened. They splashed in and got soaked to the bone, and Altaïr withdrew from the sensation with a shiver.

_ Careful. _

At least it seemed that agents climbing up and down the wall was a common sight. Such was the way of assassins - teach one to climb, and they’d spent their entire life doing that instead of walking around. 

 

Ezio couldn’t answer him with his mouth full of water. Of course, he could have probably strolled in through the doors. He had the rank for it, but he’d rather take the climb and the dive like some of younger operatives did. Walking in demanded smalltalk and potential suspicions.

Besides, the swim was refreshing. He could see something move below the surface, throwing off a vague red glow and swimming with serpentine motions. Ah, so they still had those. He remembered them from the training pool, which had not been out here or this size.

Ezio climbed out of the water, dripping for as long as his uniform needed to purge the liquid.

“I always preferred the student entrance. Feels more challenging than making small talk with the guards on shift.”

The fortress lay atop a winding path, illuminated during any time of day. Ezio could have climbed the walls of the actual Masyaf too, but he decided to stroll in like a captain.

 

_ So I see  _ **_that_ ** _ tradition hasn’t changed from my day at all.  _ Altaïr had been the one to  _ start _ all those traditions. The military section of Masyaf was the biggest and closest to the core, and from what Altaïr could tell - being constantly renovated. Several buildings looks to be on the old side, but their neighbors were shiney-chrome.

“Halt,” a guard said when they drew close to the fortress. He looked to be at least a decade younger than Ezio and though his uniform was that of an assassin - white ceramo-armor and hood - he also had the three stripes of a senior student. “Present your implants for identity scan.”

 

“I think you’re supposed to address me by rank, recruit,” Ezio commented as he presented his wrist, glove drawn back enough to show the implant. Honestly, was Masyaf not teaching manners anymore? He remembered having to rotate onto the guard shift and running identity checks. It was the most boring week of his life.

 

The guard gave Ezio a sullen look as he checked the results of the scanner. “Alright,  _ Captain  _ Auditore. You’re free to go in,  _ captain.  _ Have a nice day,  _ captain.” _

His fellow guard discreetly nudged him and he quieted down, though he scowled.

 

“Grazie,” Ezio was above pettiness, really, so he did nothing but incline his head and walk past the guard. He supposed it was one of the more dull assignments you could have around Masyaf, though cleaning the walls and maintaining the moat struck him as even worse jobs to do.

Nevermind the guards. He was inside. It still looked the same as when he’d trained here, and it never failed to impress. The white towers rose above the mountain and the banners of the Brotherhood moved gently in a breeze Ezio couldn’t feel.

“Changed a little for you, I bet,” he moved to the side of the courtyard, having no intention of drawing undue attention.

 

Altaïr listened to the muttered comments of the two guards as they walked away from them.

_ “-be polite -” _

_ “-he’s not the one handling our grades, who even cares -” _

Ah, youth. Somehow, that exchange made him feel a little more light-hearted when he turned his attention to what Ezio was looking at. Young people rarely changed, no matter the year or setting.

_ I see Abbas has added more to the fortress,  _ he remarked.  _ Tacky, isn’t it? _

The original Masyaf had been built into the side of a mountain. The mountain itself still stood now, but the fortress had expanded to nearly cover it. Dozens of squat, flat buildings had been erected in a staircase-like fashion, connected by a network of walkways and hyperlifts, and, at the top like a white crown, a series of pale spears jutted into the sky. Each tower flickered with its personal shield and, in the middle, stood the tallest of them all. A massive banner fluttered from its alabaster walls, red on white, bearing the sigil of the Brotherhood.

It was all very grandiose. Altaïr disliked it enormously.

He sighed inside Ezio’s head.  _ I didn’t want something like this. _

 

Ezio didn’t have a problem with the grandeur of Masyaf, but the way it was portrayed as this pulsing heart of a righteous organization soured his mood. If this was all built on lies, he’d have to tear it down, no matter how grand, no matter how great. It was a strange way to feel about the only place that had felt like home after the destruction of his family’s property.

He approached one of the towers he was very familiar with during his student days; the records hall. 

“It’s a great place to grow up,” he offered to Altaïr, almost in apology, “I enjoyed my life here. I felt...chosen. Special.”

 

_ Once upon a time, I thought this would be my future. Once. And then I grew up. I gained some wisdom. This… this is a waste. Abbas is no king and you should not have to look up at him like a servant. _

If it had been built for something else, Altaïr would not have minded. But the symbology of it quietly sickened him. Something that beautiful should have been a library, or a research center, and not a place of power. He continued to examine the grounds with a critical eye until something else caught his gaze,

_ Is that…? Oh, fucking  _ **_hell_ ** _. _

Once they rounded the corner, it was hard  _ not _ to see the massive statue in the center of the courtyard. It was turned away from them but the ceramo-armor, weapons, and hood made it painfully obvious what it was. There were other statues as well, but they ringed the outside of the courtyard and were smaller than the massive marble abomination that Altaïr currently observed with morbid fascination.

_ Really? _

 

“It’s not that bad,” Ezio tried to soothe, but the statue was, as always, impressive and entirely too big and Ezio remembered it fondly, having spent many moments looking up at it, wondering about what kind of amazing man Altaïr was.

And now, he carried his last, living memory around in his head. Ezio would wonder about the strangeness of his own life at some other point.

“You look like a god.”

 

_ And I am a man,  _ Altaïr insisted with some fire.  _ I have always been just a man. ‘Do not follow in blind faith’ is one of my main teachings - take care not to forget it. _

If he ever got the chance, he was going to have that statue taken down. Altaïr had killed too many people with statues made of them to become one himself.

_ Move on,  _ he said, a little sour.  _ I don’t want to look at it any further. _

 

“It was my favorite spot when I was here. I’d sit on your shoulder to read, until someone came to yell at me,” Ezio had fond memories and no personal grudge against the statue. Much the opposite. It helped contribute to his intense desire to discover all of Altaïr’s writings as a young man, and that’s precisely what he had done, right under the nose of his former tutors and instructors. Ezio was never all that fond of sticking to the rules or playing it safe. His natural abilities helped him avoid expulsion on more than one occasion.

“You were inspiring. Statue or not.”

 

_ Ezio, please,  _ Altaïr said as he leaned back over the praise. Ezio’s admiration had been muted for the most part but coming here to Masyaf had apparently brought it to the forefront.  _...you are too kind. It is good to know that the bits and pieces that I left survived and could provide some guidance to those who came after me. _

Funny thing, that. He had written it as a vague project, hoping that they would be useful - or at least interesting. And now, they were apparently treasured, secret historical documents. How things changed.

_ I do still hope that it is the only one of its kind. _

 

“You might want to look away,” Ezio smirked a little as the lift doors opened and lead out into a fairly average hallway. At the end of it, however, the entire wall was dominated by a mural of Altaïr’s face, including his piercing, golden eyes and severe expression.

For someone that personally wished to kill Altaïr, Abbas seemed to have spared no expense at turning Altaïr into a decoration at every point and turn.

 

Altaïr said nothing but he groaned, resigned to his apparent fate of being confronted by his own face all over Masyaf. The mural ahead of them took up one entire wall and was startlingly photo-realistic, so that Altaïr had to stare down his own stare, magnified a thousand times.

_ Is it like this everywhere?  _ He demanded silently.  _ Just… statues and posters and murals of me? _

 

“In every major hub for the Brotherhood, yeah. You’re a big deal. The face of the Brotherhood.” Ezio couldn’t contain his amusement at Altaïr’s exasperation. It was kind of adorable in its own way and Altaïr’s fame hardly put a dent in his reputation. It was also not a terrible thing to have, should they ever need to publicly defend their actions. People still respected Altaïr as this almost fictional man. Long dead and deified. Strange how most seemed content to accept his disappearance as ancient history, even though it had only been fifty years ago.

More evidence of the Brotherhood’s rapid growth.

“At least it’s a beautiful face. That helps a lot.”

 

The compliment caught him off-guard, then flustered him. People didn’t call Altaïr beautiful - not to his face, at any rate.

_ I… well. Er, thank you.  _ Altaïr fuzzed inside Ezio as he searched for something to say.  _ We should keep moving. _

They moved on from the mural pretty speedily, thankfully, and their current route didn’t take them towards anymore horrific examples of idolatry. Altaïr almost expected busts of his head down a hallway at this rate.

_ Just how far-reaching is this?  _ He asked Ezio as he began to pick through his memories. He’d focused on his mission for the most part, but maybe he should begin to look at his school days too.  _ And how exactly are people going to react if I reveal myself? _

 

“It would be...something spectacular. You’re already a legend, but if you actually showed up, living and talking? Pandemonium. The Brotherhood citizens aren’t the only ones that revere you.” Ezio helpfully navigated Altaïr towards some memories that held experiences with the general public. Entire colonies that had been aided by the Brotherhood and in turn, paid their respects to Altaïr himself. More statues than anyone could ever approve of had been built, all over the galaxy.

 

Altaïr watched memories play out in incredulous bafflement. It wasn’t quite cultish, but it was nonetheless unnerving to witness, secondhand as it may be.

_ I don't know what to say,  _ he honestly said after watching a few more memories.  _ I had… expected some reactions, but not something to this scale. _

It was almost clever of Abbas. He’d taken Altaïr and used him as a mythical figurehead, and there was no one left to testify otherwise, nor was Altaïr present to disprove him.

_ This trip is proving to be deeply enlightening.I _

 

“It’s a clever notion. No one would believe that a Brotherhood that revered you like this would be capable of betraying you. No one would accuse Abbas of anything, not when your face is all that most people associate with the Brotherhood,” Ezio tugged the hood off of his head as he passed through the rows and rows of terminals. Some of them held diligent students, but the hall of records was a lot emptier than he had ever seen.

His feet were on autopilot, working off of memory alone. He didn’t need anything specific in here other than to pass time, but now that he was here, Ezio had an idea of what he wanted to go over with Altaïr in his head.

“Your codex,” Ezio came to a stop before a wall of paper pages, all compressed and preserved behind a thick layer of plexiglass. They were surrounded by ancient symbols and ritual weapons of a time long before Altaïr, but it gave the whole installation another notion of grandeur and age.

“You’d think you died thousands of years ago, as a prophet of the people.”

Ezio didn’t pay the whole structure much mind, heading to the side and inspecting one of the decorative sets of old armor. He searched for a hidden little button and found it fully functional, much to his relief. The armor folded aside to reveal a single, slightly battered pad which Ezio took into his possession.

“Your actual journal was much more informative than all of that.”

 

_ You have that?  _ Altaïr couldn’t suppress his interest. He surged to the forefront of Ezio’s mind and stared the little datapad that had been one of his outlets. It really was his - he remembered that crack in the corner, it’d come about when he’d dropped it in his sleep. And that stain - he’d put his cup on it and forgotten it until the brown ring was permanent.

He fed Ezio all his little comments as he looked it over and then, with hushed excitement, said,  _ Open it, please. _

Opening it out here, standing at the side of the tribute to Abbas’ lies didn’t seem like a good idea. Ezio withdrew to a uninhabited corner and found a comfortable seat to slip into before he opened the pad’s cover and pressed the power button. 

The screen flickered to life and asked for a password. Ezio typed it in without hesitation.

“Anything in particular you want to see? I memorized it.”

 

_ Something early. When I just started out. _

His journaling had been sporadic in those early days, but there were a few memories worth reliving in there. As an AI, he technically never forgot, but it wasn’t the same as looking through his own old datapad, at his shorthand, and remembering when he’d written it down.

_ Mm. Try… 2314. July.  I was twenty-nine years old then. We just reached one hundred recruits. _

 

Ezio tapped the date into the pad, watching as it loaded the page slowly. He didn’t need to see the entry, knowing it off by heart anyway, but Altaïr already thought him odd enough for being in such open awe of him. He didn’t say it out loud, but he didn’t need to; Ezio could feel his uncomfortable disapproval in his head.

“Here we go. This thing is ancient, by the way,” Ezio scanned Altaïr’s notes for the day. He seemed fairly inspired by the large number of recruits and personally, Ezio liked the happy entries much better than the cynical ones, or the terribly sad ones. Altaïr had a lot more emotions about the Brotherhood than the ‘official’ version of the Codex implied.

 

_ 2314, July 7th, _

_ Reached 100 people today, will need to add extensions to living quarters. Sharing room with Malik, might not last much longer. _

Ah, he remembered this. There had been a swell in recruitment efforts and they couldn’t build buildings fast enough to keep up with arrivals. Pre-fabs only went so far when they were living on the side of a mountain and waging a guerilla war against the Templars. Rooming with Malik back then had been a trial and a half - they hadn’t gotten along yet, and Malik still resented him for what happened to Kadar.

_ It is reliable,  _ Altaïr said as he quietly scanned the page.  _ After all, it is functional even now. _

_ Maria reports shipments are coming in again. _

_ Finally. Everything's coming together now. We had a rocky start, but we weathered the worst of it. Abbas will lead another hunting party tomorrow - I will ride out tonight to ensure the shipment comes in safely. _

This datapad was one the older versions - the kind you could actually write on with a little touch pen. He’d preferred it like that; it felt more permanent. More thoughtful. Each letter had to be carefully formed, each word chosen. It forced him to slow down and  _ think  _ about what he wanted to write. Here, his notes weren’t neatly ordered, but rather sprawled wherever Altaïr found space to jot down his current thoughts. He hadn’t been nearly as meticulous back then, nor had the melancholy overtaken his thoughts as much.

_ Training more people. Figured out how the light-blade will work - we’re not going to cut off fingers anymore. Ritual mutilation won’t be part of our creed. I want to keep changing us. Keep evolving. There’s still so much to do - and never enough time, it feels like. There are more people coming, and they bring their children, their families. We need more space for them, but this is good. There are more of us now - we won’t go down easy. _

Altaïr scanned the page again before he touched ghostly fingers to Ezio’s hand.  _ 2317\. December. _

 

“You sounded so hopeful,” Ezio commented. He’d found comfort in this journal when he was a student at Masyaf. It was much more helpful to know the great mentor and founder had his own, human struggles, rather than merely revering a man beyond flaws, a perfect and ultimately, inhuman image.

“I liked this journal a lot when I was young. It made me feel more familiar. It’s better to know flaws as well as accomplishments, I suppose.”

 

_ In a better world, they would have taught all of you my failures alongside my successes. Had Malik still been alive…  _ He grew wistful again.  _ Or if Maria hadn’t… well. There wouldn’t be nearly as many statues, I can promise you. _

They backed out of 2314 and scrolled down until they found 2317.

_ 2317, December 30th, _

_ Once, I used to count how many people I killed. I’d done it for a variety of reasons; because I wanted to keep count. Because I mistakenly believed it to be a badge of honor. Because if you don’t occupy your thoughts with something, then darker things will creep in. _

_ Now, I cannot remember. Ten years later, I am beginning to realize killing is not a gift - merely a burden. And it is my responsibility to decide when to use the blade, or when to extend mercy. Should I bribe the man to gain what I want, or should I turn to the sword? When is the time right - or is it ever right? _

Here, his writing began to become more orderly. More fleshed out. He’d taken to writing in his journal more and more to express some of the thoughts he could never say out loud. As he read it with Ezio, Altaïr offered him the memory of writing it down.

He had been sleepless on a late night. His thoughts kept him up, demanding his attention, and no amount of turning over in bed or pacing could make them quiet down. He’d already been kicked out of Malik’s bed for moving around too much, and Maria would rather throw him out her window than admit him at this hour. So he’d climbed out the window, scaled Masyaf to his study, and penned his racing thoughts until he dozed off over his desk, half-naked and restless.

_ If life were so simple, I suspect philosophy would not be worth studying. I will never have all the answers I want, nor will I know the objective right choice. All I can do is to pick the choice I will regret the least.  _

_ Thus far, I regret the times I picked violence more than I regret diplomacy. Let this never change. _

Thirty-two years old. Sixteen years until he died.

 

The thoughts penned on the pad reached further and further, until Ezio could only read them with a distanced notion of understanding, but not the profound understanding he felt from Altaïr in his head as he re-read his words.

Ezio understood mulling over the actions and consequences of one’s life, but to extend thought beyond that and dabble in philosophy seemed unnecessary. He never had. He was practical, in thought, in action. It seemed a waste to ask why and what if at every given turn. Ezio certainly didn’t have the energy to do so, and he was surprised to remember how much Altaïr dedicated to it.

“Diplomacy won’t decide this conflict,” he lifted his gaze from the pad, staring out of the window instead, “And it won’t give us answers tonight. You’ve seen my work, you know what I am going to do.”

Ezio quietly recalled a number from his implant, watching it flicker behind his eyes.

“It will grow, substantially, before any of this is done.”

 

_ I am no stranger to death,  _ Altaïr told him as he used Ezio’s hand to skim through the rest of his journal,  _ and all you’ve mastered has been built upon the foundations of what I developed. Learning self-restraint is not a weakness. _

He would have liked to sit down and read his journal, but they did not have the time for it now. Altaïr pushed away from it with a sigh.

_ Don’t leave this here. Our mission tonight may very well end up with you forbidden from Masyaf, so take it. _

 

“Banishment would probably be the lightest punishment I can get away with,” Ezio checked the time and slipped the journal into one of his utility pockets. He’d store it somewhere safe aboard his ship when he returned. If he returned. Prescott was the priority, and what happened after could very well turn into a bloodbath.

“It’s almost time for the shift change. Ready?”

He’d need to make sure no one interfered with the terminal they’d picked out for the task, but it was a fairly defensible spot if worse came to worst.

 

_ Keep a low profile,  _ Altaïr warned as he sensed the violence that lurked under the surface of Ezio’s calm.  _ It will be better for both of us if no one suspects you. Dead bodies in the middle of fortress tends to raise questions. _

Altaïr prepped the combat program and pressed himself into Ezio’s implants, ready for whatever came up.  _ Alright. Take us in. _

Prescott’s rank as Chief Research Officer earned him a cushy position in one of the buildings that skirted the mountain, where he conducted most of his research. At night, he retreated deeper into the mountain, to the bunker where the Brotherhood’s most central figures stayed, and security around that was clenched tighter than a vice. So if they were going to snatch him, they had to do it from his lab.

Thankfully, security around Prescott’s lab was not nearly so pervasive - not out of choice, Altaïr was sure, but the level of security enjoyed by the bunker was resource-draining. Ezio would break in at night, key Altaïr into the network, and Altaïr would crack open the rest of the shell for Ezio during the day. While he was in the system, he’d also get a peek at everything Prescott was working on. Infiltration and a rapid strike. Textbook as anything.

 

“This should be a piece of cake.” 


	8. Chapter 8

It was not, in fact, a piece of cake. It was a piece of a delicate operation, because the terminal they’d chosen for their night-time hack was right at the crossing point of several security cameras (which meant Ezio had to take them out first) and three guard rounds, which posed as a problem of entirely new proportions because there was not enough time to find the right place to insert Altaïr and leave before someone caught Ezio in this restricted area.

Ezio had to move fast and silent, which was how he had to be on most missions and he pulled the chip out of his neck. It felt wrong to leave Altaïr alone in the terminal, but a stray chip was less of a suspicious sight than an entire operative, standing over a terminal that wasn’t open to access by just anyone.

He didn’t like this. That thought prevailed as he retreated into the shadows, eyes on the tiny slot with Altaïr inside of it. He didn’t like this at all.

 

Altaïr came online once Ezio inserted him into the terminal. He stretched his limbs a little before he flicked the screen on to assure him that he was in. As he did, he extended his attention to the security system and wrangled all the cameras in the vicinity under his control. A little red alert distracted the guards and Altaïr engineered a minor electrical problem for them to find.

“Good work, Ezio,” he said once he had things firmly in hand. “I’ll take over from here - your only task now is to get out of here.”

Then he could teach himself how to fool a state-of-the-art security system in one night.  _ No trouble. _

 

“You’ll be alright, right?” Ezio knew he should go, but there was something intrinsically wrong with leaving Altaïr behind in the terminal. He would stay in here, go unnoticed, learn the system and break it for Ezio, but it also meant they’d work separately for the first time since Ezio discovered the AI on the wreckage of the _ Eagle _ .

“Can you contact me if something goes wrong? Through the system?”

 

“...not quite,” Altaïr said. “Each compound here operates on a closed system apart from the rest of the city. Thankfully, practicality means it’s not a closed system per lab.” Now  _ that _ would have put a stop to their plans. The exchange between security and efficiency had helped him out several time over the decades. “But this terminal is one of the least used ones in the building. The likelihood of being discovered is very low.”

Altaïr putzed around with the cameras some more before he realized Ezio was unmoving. “Is something wrong?” he asked. The terminal screen fuzzed a little bit and something shifted behind the blue light, something almost shaped like a face. “I have every faith in you, Ezio.”

 

“It just...feels wrong to leave you here.” Ezio felt almost lonely, occupying his body and implants by himself. He’d gotten used to Altaïr being there, a comforting presence in his head, there when he woke up, when he went on missions, at his side at every turn.

But he was being emotional. Something that his training was supposed to have rid him off, but never quite did. Ezio’s emotions were powerful and ruled him like nothing else, and disassociating from them didn’t usually end well.

He forced himself away from the terminal. He was here with a job to do, not to hover anxiously over Altaïr.

“I’ll see you tomorrow. Stay safe.”

 

“...I’ll be fine, Ezio. When you come back for me tomorrow, I will be right here where you left me.” Altaïr couldn’t be very reassuring without a face or hands, but he mustered his warmest tone of voice and hoped it translated through the tinny speakers. “Sleep well.”

 

Ezio almost told Altaïr to do the same, before he realized how stupid that would sound. He nodded at the terminal and made his way out of the compound. He’d have to make use of one of the habitation suites, but he doubted that he’d sleep well by any measure.

Perhaps it would give him some time to contemplate just how human he considered Altaïr to be. His worry for the safety of an AI was just the tipping point.

-x-

Morning came quickly, at least for Ezio. The routine around Masyaf was entirely undisturbed by his presence, and the flow of people in and out of the research facility was steady. Each of them stopped at the door and presented their arm, allowing it to be scanned for permissions of access. 

Ezio approached it with some apprehension, but he had every faith in Altaïr. If his scan failed, he’d just have to come up with some abstract reason of why he needed access to this building that would serve as an excuse at the interrogation.

The Brotherhood was strict like that, investigating every breach of security, whether accidental or malicious.

But Ezio’s worries were without reason and the scanner turned green for him, the door sliding open. Ezio hastened his steps to find the terminal where he left Altaïr.

 

It was rather strange to inhabit a form that didn’t have a natural downtime function. Altaïr had gotten used to Ezio’s brain slowing down for sleep; he’d occasionally dip his hands into his dreams and nudge them away from nightmares, or surf his more pleasant memories until it was time for them to get up. Like this, however, he just… existed.

_ AI can’t get tired,  _ he told himself as he swept the system once more. Ezio’s ID was keyed into every part of the facility now. He should show up green in every check, scan, and gate, and his name would be on all the lists. An hour later, he’d be wiped off. Hopefully, that was enough time. Altaïr didn’t want to push the time slot in case someone with the right eyes saw his little jury-rigging. He was already risking a lot downloading every important-looking file he saw.

He tracked Ezio as he walked through the compound and unlocked the door for him when he reached for it. It swung open and the terminal he inhabited blinked once before shutting off. His crystal storage ship ejected, waiting. The darkness of the chip unnerved him but Altaïr held faith in Ezio, in this slow kind of trust fall.

“I’m sorry, the door’s locked - oh, hey. You got it open!” A lab technician jogged up to Ezio as her expression went from a tired resignation to sleepy delight. An ID card bounced around on the end of her red lanyard -  _ Rebecca Crane.  _ “This damn place was locked down the entire morning and we couldn’t get a hold of the admin… how’d you do it?”

 

“Nothing special. Just dumb luck, I bet.” Ezio tensed at her presence, even though she seemed very much a non-threat. He stepped inside of the terminal space and found the little, all-important chip. He quickly palmed it, before this lab tech could ask him any questions or god forbid, find it herself.

“If you’ll excuse me,” he severely hoped she wouldn’t ask him any more questions. He had a very limited time window.

 

“Yeah, yeah,” she waved him off as she circled the terminals. “I’m not gonna be here for much long anyway. Someone over at IT’s bitching about how the cameras keep lagging or whatever. Bye, dude, and thanks for the save!”

She sat down at the terminal that Altaïr had occupied just minutes prior and fired it up.

 

Her casual dismissal was entirely welcome and Ezio took off into a different direction, walking fast and with purpose. He found a dark little corner to stop at and push Altaïr back into his neck. It was a sweet relief when he felt him close again, a burden dropping away from him that had allowed no sleep in the previous night.

“Everything okay? Are we good to go?”

 

Coming back to Ezio was like dropping into a hot bath. A shock ran through his system as Altaïr returned to a space that was alive, perfectly alive, in a way that the network had not been. It was… nice. Like walking around in the cold, then laying down in a warm bed.

_ Good,  _ he said with a hint of satisfaction.  _ Everything will be open for you, but you need to move quickly. Prescott should be on the fifth floor Private Laboratory. Like everyone else here, he has a cortical implant. When you find him, you need to put me in. _

 

“I thought we were here to interrogate him.” The notion didn’t sit well with Ezio at all. Breaking into the research facility was one thing, inserting Altaïr into another man’s mind was an entirely different matter. He understood the why immediately, even if he didn’t want to and wasn’t fond of the idea; Altaïr could just force it out of Prescott’s mind, without the filter of his words to inhibit his questioning.

“You never said anything about putting you into his implant.”

 

_ It makes sense,  _ Altaïr said as he pressed Ezio into moving again. They moved a brisk pace, Altaïr occasionally nudging him so that they swung away from the path of guard patrols.  _ I can access everything I need from him faster than you can interrogate him. It’ll be easier too - cleaner. I’ll be able to make sure he doesn’t even know it happened.  _

Ezio’s displeasure throbbed through the dark space of his mind like a bruise. Altaïr sniffed.  _ Our time window is limited. Unless you have a better idea, continue to follow my instructions. _

 

“Understood.” Ezio didn’t offer him any more explanation for his sudden shift in mood. He didn’t even try to explain it to himself. It was something about inserting an AI into an unknowing man’s head that struck him as wrong, even though he’d been prepared to injure Prescott during his interrogation. 

Or maybe it was just the fact that Altaïr, so pleasant in his own head, could be used as a weapon himself.

Ezio did not want to stop and argue with Altaïr about it now. After this mission, perhaps.

Prescott’s lab was the biggest, guarded by actual humans as well as scanners, and it admitted Ezio without a hitch.

 

Normally, a laboratory had giant glass windows that let everyone see what went on inside. Prescott’s lab, however, was fully sealed and the only entry was the doorway. Currently, only the man himself occupied the huge space, but the lack of other humans only magnified how cluttered the place was.

Altaïr frowned as he examined everything. This wasn’t traditional equipment.  There were some things he recognized - beakers and tubes and scales - but others were… esoteric. Perhaps even a little  _ alien _ in design.

His eye caught a whiteboard in the far corner. It was halfway obscured by another, blank whiteboard, but the sphere drawn on it, surrounded by tiny scribbles, set off his alarms.

_ Ezio,  _ he said with new urgency,  _ get me in his head quickly!  _ He didn’t care how it was done, as long as it didn’t draw attention. Once he was inside, Prescott didn’t stand a chance.

The door slid shut behind Ezio, drawing Prescott’s attention. He turned briefly, his expression distracted. He was an older man, stoop-backed, with a cap of thinning white hair that might have been blonde twenty years earlier. He wore a simple black turtleneck and grey trousers under his white lab coat. “Oh, good, you came back quickly - wait. Who’re you?”

 

Ezio could appreciate the lack of windows of the lab, because it allowed him to do whatever he needed to Prescott. He didn’t stop to answer the question, breaking into a short burst of speed to cross the room and seize the man. Prescott was definitely one of those scientists that discovered their passion after training at Masyaf traditionally, because his flailing was hardly coordinated defensive behavior.

He brought Prescott down to the floor, covering his mouth by shoving his face into the tiles beneath them, pressing down on the man with his entire weight. He knew the delicate balance between pinning and crushing. 

Ezio pulled the ordinary chip out of Prescott’s cortical implant, ignoring the slight resistance made. It could cause lasting damage, but he couldn’t bring himself to care. One hand pinned Prescott, the other reached up for Altaïr’s chip. They had to be quick and yet, allow Altaïr as much time inside of their target as possible.

Prescott went limp when the chip went into his neck and Ezio eased off of him a little.

 

He came to inside of Prescott with a gasp. His second person. If Ezio had been like a hot bath, then Prescott was like a stream, always moving, always pushing in a single direction. Right now, however, his thoughts were in disarray, bungled up by panic and fear and shock.

Like a jockey reigning in a horse, Altaïr grabbed Prescott’s mind and seized him until he was no longer in danger of being swept away by his emotions. There was no time for delicacy here; Altaïr tugged open the cranks of his brain and dived down into a deep well of memories.

The first memory he saw was Prescott eating dinner. He had been hungry when Ezio had come in, and food had been on the forefront of his mind. Altaïr shoved it away and continued to search. He’d learned how to navigate memories from all the time spent in Ezio and brains? They didn’t work like computers, where you could type in a search term and find the relevant shred of data. Instead, you had to follow a trail of associations, like how hunger jumped to memories of eating.

_ Research.  _ Altaïr hopped onto that trail and searched around until he found  _ alien _ amid a jungle of scientific jargon. He kept going until he found a bundle of memories associated with a year, a face, the  _ Apple.  _ With wild abandon, he hurriedly pulled through the memory to witness it.

Once he was done, he surged back to the surface, feeling dirty, tainted. Those memories had not been  _ good. _

Harnessing Prescott’s mouth, Altaïr stammered out a garbled, “Eeee… zo… out!” As the man spoke, a thin line of blood trickled down from his nostril.

 

Every second that ticked by with Prescott limp in his grasp was one filled with tension for Ezio. He had to trust completely in Altaïr’s ability to wrangle the man’s brain and separate what he needed out of his thoughts. It was invasive and definitely unethical, but Ezio had done worse. He really had no high horse to preach from about this.

When Prescott managed to garble his name, Ezio knew Altaïr had been successful. Or he couldn’t do any more. Either way, it was time to retrieve him from the man’s cortical implant and return him to his own mind. Prescott had to be taken care of, but there was no intention to leave behind a dead body. Ezio wore his hood and shouldn’t be on the records in an hour. He knocked the limp man in his grasp against the floor, letting him sink down, unconscious for now. He shouldn’t wake up before Ezio was erased from the records and no one could trace him here.

Ezio let the chip slide into his neck before walking out of the lab at a sedate pace.

He didn’t speak until they left the research compound.

“What did you find?”

 

_ A lot. Too much. I need… I need time. Wait. I wasn’t…  _ Altaïr’s voice garbled into confused electric noises before he managed to pull himself together enough to speak again.  _ Do you - do you remember the first time I saw your memories? We overshared. Mixed up. _

 

“Yes. Is that happening to you now?” Ezio continued his way out of the compound. He couldn’t just go for ship and order that they leave, it would be too suspicious, so he returned to the hall of records, which somehow was the most private spot in all of Masyaf. In the safety of his old, favorite spot, Ezio tugged down the hood and shut the door behind himself. Students used these tiny rooms to prepare for exams, as they provided absolute silence and absolute privacy, which the students also knew to value highly.

“Do you need me to do anything?”

 

_ No. Just… be there.  _ What a nonsensical answer. Where else would Ezio  _ go? _

Inside him, Altaïr struggled with the cloying, gluey remnants of the memories that he had ripped out of Prescott’s head and taken with him. They threatened to meld into his own memories and create an ugly overlap of  _ me/him/us  _ and damn it, damn it, he should have been more careful. He thought all his practice on Ezio would make him better at this, but apparently he had miscalculated.

What made it worse was that their memories shared common threads. The Apple. Malik. The Brotherhood. They threatened to intertwine unless Altaïr forced them apart. Still on high-alert, he forced Prescott’s remainders into a box and shoved it away into an unobtrusive corner of Ezio’s head.

_...alright. I think that’s it. I… his memories almost became mine.  _ He shook himself as his nerves jumped around, frazzled by the near miss. Laughed shortly.  _ If that happened, I no longer would be Altaïr. _

 

Ezio could do nothing but wait. Something was happening in his head, he saw flashes of faces he didn’t know, felt the edges of emotions he couldn’t untangle. Altaïr was still there, a warm, constant presence that he couldn’t help but cling to. What he was doing, Ezio could not discern, and it was an alarming thing to feel, like his head was nothing but a transport for memories and thoughts he couldn’t identify.

But Altaïr’s presence was the one constant he could fix himself to, so Ezio sat quietly in the silent room, separating what was his mind from the passenger and his luggage.

“Is there some way you can anchor to me? We need to know what he knew, but if I lose you, this is all for nothing.”

 

_ Think of…  _ Altaïr searched for a memory that he and Ezio shared that wouldn’t be pulled be pulled into the gravitational well of Prescott’s tatters. He almost said the  _ Eagle,  _ but… no. Not that. He didn’t want to relive  _ those _ days.

_ Think of Hedonia,  _ Altaïr said as a last-ditch maneuver. 

 

That was not a difficult request. Ezio recalled the events on the pleasure planet with ease, from the relaxed atmosphere to the thrill of his nightly companionship. What came unbidden was the memory of the monumental orgasm that Altaïr had unknowingly enhanced. That feeling, the near melt of their minds with his body, that was something Ezio could indulge in for hours. He leashed the feeling to himself, let it connect with all things he remembered about Altaïr, and held steady.

“Is that good?” It sent a certain, untimely tingle through his body, but even that sensation served well to ground them both.

 

The memory was bright in the darkness. Like a moth to flame, Altaïr came closer until the vividness of it nearly scalded him. Yes. This was a good memory. It wasn’t connected to the Brotherhood, not in any solid way, nor did it share characteristics with that of Prescott’s. It was solidly, uniquely  _ theirs. _

Little by little, the tangling knots eased, then let go. Prescott fell back down limply, faded now that their source was gone, and Altaïr’s files were still pure, still  _ him. _

_ Yes,  _ he breathed out in relief.  _ Very good. Just… stay like this. Keep thinking about Hedonia. I need to collect myself. _

 

Ezio nodded, even if no one was there to see. He kept his eyes closed, examining the memory. The taste, smell, and sight of his night with two temporary lovers was good, the electricity in his body when he came with Altaïr’s full presence was better. He remembered, and so did his body. The arousal lurked beneath his skin, almost a little confused, a little hesitant, but it was there.

“You want me to keep going?”

His hand wandered along his body as he reclined in the seat. He’d give Altaïr all the breathing room he possibly could.

 

Ezio’s thoughts weren’t on just Hedonia now. Altaïr felt the slide of his attention, the way it settled down on one event with a solid thump, and was rather sure he knew what it was. A peek confirmed it.

_ I think you will even without my say-so,  _ he said. He would leave Prescott alone for now. He didn’t want to accidentally unleash them on Ezio in the process of studying them, so he settled down, surprisingly weary. Processor weary?

_ Where are we? _

 

“In one of the private study rooms at the records hall. No surveillance.” Ezio had made use of these rooms in a surprisingly similar fashion when he was a student, though he usually had more than his own thoughts for company. He slipped his hand under his clothes and found himself half-hard and eager in his palm. This wasn’t strange to do in Altaïr’s presence, he’d done it before, just never with his thoughts so focused on one particular memory.

“I figured that taking off with the  _ Firenze _ would be too suspicious. Better wait an hour or so.”

 

Altaïr borrowed Ezio’s eyes and saw how he was going to occupy himself for his proposed hour. He stared for longer than he should have and then, with a sideways step, immersed himself into the memory that Ezio played in his head, over and over again like a beloved loop.

Ezio’s implants glowed a little brighter as Altaïr made his presence known. He would have asked if Ezio wanted privacy, but the last few months taught Altaïr just how much of his privacy he really valued - well, when it came to Altaïr, anyway. He wedged them closer, until he felt the phantom sensation of Ezio’s skin against him.

_ Keep going. _

 

He didn’t need to be told twice. Ezio gave a pleased little sigh as he tugged himself free, the hypersensitivity of Altaïr synching so closely with him like fire under his skin. He didn’t know how he was ever going to go back to just being one person, when this felt so good. The mission, Prescott, all these things fell off of him in layers, until it was just him, the memory, and Altaïr. 

The phantom weight was back, Altaïr’s warm presence in his mind closer than ever.

“I wish you knew how this felt.”

 

_ I don’t need to. I can feel  _ **_you._ ** Altaïr sighed as Ezio stroked himself, and he leaned into him, pressed closer, until his senses ratcheted up to the point that he could feel the cool air of this small room. Their minds remained keenly separated, but everything else… ah, everything else melted into a pool of  _ skin-body-Ezio. _

Unbidden, Ezio’s wrist twitched a different way as Altaïr moved through him. He registered it but didn’t apologize as he did it again, this time rolling his hips forward. 

 

Ezio allowed it, because it served to heighten his pleasure. The foreign impulses were good, and his body followed them along. His hand had a nice pace by now, and he was very hard to go along with the tingling skin. Even his implants felt good right now, each pulse they sent lighting up his nerves.

The thought that Altaïr was right there, under his skin, enticed him. It wasn’t quite as good as touching another person, but it was a different kind of good where he couldn’t tell if it was himself or Altaïr that dictated how he touched himself.

He heard noise in the otherwise quiet room and realized it was his own, labored breathing. When had he gotten so worked up over this?

 

When he was this close to the surface, Altaïr almost felt like he had a body. It wasn’t a body under his full control and Ezio was still there, a bright, gasping star, but it was the closest he’d gotten in years. He seized the chance hungrily until it was hard to tell who was who, until Altaïr felt the hot pulse of lust as sharply as Ezio did.

They shared the memory of Hedonia but it was growing muddier with each passing second. Details were lost and faces were smudged, but they made up for it with new improvisations. Ezio was the one on the bed now, his back arched, his current panting providing that extra, necessary shade of reality, and Altaïr bent over him. Here, Ezio was a spring of details and half-baked fantasies. Altaïr brushed them until they were closer to reality than mere posters and statues.

Their - his - mouth was dry. Altaïr leaned back on the desk, his teeth gritted, as he tightened his grip and dragged his hand over his cock.

 

Hedonia was rapidly becoming something else behind Ezio’s closed eyes, and he had no doubt that Altaïr felt it too. Or maybe he saw it, it was difficult to keep them apart right now. They moved together, Ezio’s hand, Altaïr’s, it didn’t matter, it felt good and he wanted it, them, to keep going.

The clusterfuck of deciding what this was and if they were two or one could come later, Ezio wanted to enjoy it for now.

Flashes of bodies pressed against him, of hands touching him greedily, sloppy kisses pressed to his mouth in the half-dark. It mingled with endless murals and the same, sharp, golden gaze that Ezio had never seen in person, all of it becoming a fantasy that had his implants and mind flare hotly.

Someone was moaning. Someone was calling a name. Ezio understood that it had to be him, but he could hardly hear himself.

 

_ Ezio,  _ Altaïr said. Or had that been out loud? He could hardly even tell them apart anymore. The sensation was becoming too much now - close to overwhelming. Altaïr raised his other hand and pressed it to Ezio’s chest, trying to feel him, but they were too close for that now. Altaïr breathed Ezio’s air, and Ezio felt Altaïr under him, in him, licking up against the inside of his body.

_ Ezio…  _ “-please,” he said, hungrily reaching for the image. The fantasies grew confused until what was happening no longer mattered, not when they could hardly pull each other apart.

 

What Altaïr was pleading for, Ezio could not give him. The fantasies were clouding his mind, and the sensation springing up all over his body was too much, overwhelming. It was far too late to throttle them now, they were beyond Ezio’s sole control.

Something muted in him burst when he came, but it didn’t feel like enough. The fantasies burned through memories, pulling from Ezio and Altaïr both. The hunger of his passenger drowned Ezio, muffling the brightness of him beneath it. 

His chest ached deeply, and air was in short supply. He was falling into this too deeply, and it was almost impossible to claw his way back to reality. 

Ezio sputtered and coughed, gasping air into his lungs as pain, sharp and bright, finally broke through the thick veil that had settled over him. When did he stop breathing? He banged his arm on the table, and the pain sobered him further.

 

Once again, Altaïr lost his grounding as Ezio’s orgasm took his feet out under him. He went along with it, rode the waves of sensation from him, and gently pulled back as he did so. This time, he was able to pick apart what was him and what was Ezio better than before. Unlike Prescott, Ezio’s mind was with him, always closely connected to the source, and so those memories and feelings gravitated to him as if magnetically drawn.

As he withdrew from his implants, the crazed arousal that Altaïr had been wracked with dimmed, then vanished entirely. Without Ezio to piggyback on, he couldn’t do it himself.

Instead, he rested on Ezio’s tumultuous mind, soothing the frayed pieces of him back into place again.

_ It’s alright,  _ he said, peaceful.  _ You’re still you.  _

 

“That...that is worse and better than an acid trip,” Ezio commented, controlling his breathing and putting himself away. Perhaps next time, he’d be somewhere more secure, somewhere he could fully explore what Altaïr could do to him without a body of his own.

“If the Brotherhood revolution doesn’t work out, maybe we should go into the pleasure business.” It was a terrible joke to make, but Ezio could not help himself; he was pretty sure people would pay all sorts of prices to feel what he just felt.

 

_ I see your sense of humor is swifter than your refractory period,  _ Altaïr said. First Prescott, then this - he felt a little lazy now, as if his processor really  _ was _ weary. What was next? Planned obsolescence on his storage chip?

_ I feel like you should clean your mess. Professionalism is important in the flesh trade.  _

 

Ezio chuckled at that, but continued to laze. He still had forty minutes at least to wait, and that was a generous amount of time to clean himself up and get back to the ship.

 


	9. Chapter 9

The planning and execution of their ‘mission’ in Masyaf took less time than unveiling what Prescott’s memories meant. At least, it felt that way to Ezio, who had been greeted with another day of thoughtful, absent-minded silence on Altaïr’s part.

He’d stopped asking the AI passenger for updates, letting him stew in his own prerogatives as Ezio went about his business as a captain. Nothing had come in terms of news out of Masyaf, though the  _ Firenze _ did receive new orders.

Minor missions at best, recon, civilian assistance, that sort thing. And none of it had lead out of the sector, which was probably a sign of something, but Ezio couldn’t make sense of it.

 

_ Malik presided over his laboratory like an ill-tempered vulture, dressed in his dai robes, one sleeve pinned up, and he swept through the room in alternating, aggressive circles. Yet all his closest researchers were used to the sour rotations of his temperament, so they didn't pay him any special mind. Jonah Prescott especially didn't look up when Malik leaned over his shoulder to glare at his handiwork. He was tall, blonde, and hazel-eyed, and though he’d stepped back from assassin work, his frame was still lean. As Malik’s personal assistant, he got unique favor from their CRO. _

_ “Are we getting any closer to cracking that damn thing’s wavelength?” he asked. The difficulty of researching the Apple was getting to him - some days, they practically flew through their studies. Other days, they ground to a halt. It was all dependent on how the Apple was feeling, as much as Malik was loathe to consider the trinket to be “thinking”. _

_ “It’s changed frequencies about five times over the past hour,” Prescott replied. “And if I’m judging these results correctly, it’s changing again.” _

_ Malik swore in Galactic and spun away from him. Prescott made eye contact with the other three researchers in the room - Anurak, Thaksin, and Fatima. He quirked a brow at them and they got the hint. Fatima smirked and she put her fingers to her lips before she ushered her colleagues out discreetly. _

_ Malik noticed it, but he was too frustrated to comment. Instead, he glared out of the window as if the view was to blame for all his problems. _

_ Jonah pushed away from his work table and sidled up behind Malik - a jackal approaching the vulture. He pressed against his back and gently massaged the stiffness in his neck. “You’re going to give yourself hypertension at this rate. Relax.” _

_ “Relax?” Malik repeated. “How can I relax when that damn thing leads us around by the nose?” _

_ “Applying intent to inanimate objects,” Prescott said demurely, “that’s a sign of insanity, you know.” _

_ “Don't start,” Malik warned. Despite his frosty tone, however, he didn't push Prescott away and allowed him to get close. _

_ “Maybe you should rest, and I could carry the rest of this out,” Prescott offered him. “It’s all numbers work from here on out anyway. Nothing  _ **_you_ ** _ need to devote your time to.” _

_ Malik opened his mouth to disagree, but Prescott kissed him and the argument left the older man. They kissed until Malik gently pushed Prescott back with a sigh. “Fine,” he said, begrudging. “But you don't have the keycode for the Apple’s security.” _

_ “Well, share it then,” Prescott said. Perhaps Malik was addled by love or lust, but he didn't see the avarice that shimmered in Prescott’s eyes as he said those words. _

_ He acquiesced without argument. Malik pressed his worst against Prescott’s to make the exchange, and Prescott pressed close to Malik, murmured into his ear - until the exchange was complete with a beep. _

_ Then Malik said, “Why’ve you got your bracer?” _

_ None of the other researchers actually wore theirs, especially not Prescott. The metal glimmered around his wrist as Malik brushed his sleeve back. _

_ “Special occasion?” Prescott suggested. When Malik looked at him in askance, he twisted his wrist and activated its blade. With a whisper of energy, the glowing blade sliced into Malik’s body. _

Altaïr stopped the memory there. He didn't need to see any further. Malik had fallen thanks to simple, human weakness, because of a moment of biased decision-making. 

He wished he’d killed Prescott when he had the chance.

There was more than just memories inside what he had taken, however. Prescott was a snake and a traitor, but Malik hadn't been wrong about his intelligence. He had made incredible leaps and bounds with the Apple, though it seemed that he never truly  _ got  _ it the way Altaïr had. Most importantly, he knew the identity of everyone who had been involved in the coup. Some had died, but there were enough left alive for Altaïr’s rage.

Headmaster Adsila Oxendine. Quartermaster Takashi Mori. Commander Casey Durant.

More names. More targets. Each one would cut away Abbas’ supporters until they could aim for the head of the snake once and for all.

_ Ezio,  _ Altaïr said for the first time after days of brooding silence.  _ Is there anyone around for you to kill? _

 

It had been exactly ten days since Altaïr made any sort of attempt to communicate, and Ezio was not entirely thrilled with what he had to say when he did finally break the silence.

“Are we on speaking terms again?”

He was being petty. He knew that. But ten days, and Altaïr couldn’t even inform him of what he’d found? They were supposed to be in on this mission together, but Altaïr had shut himself away with Prescott’s memories and given Ezio nothing, not even an acknowledgement.

 

He would have liked to postpone that argument and watch Ezio kill someone in a suitably brutal fashion instead. But when Altaïr checked where they were, he only saw the bridge of the  _ Firenze.  _ They seemed to be far away enough that none of his crew heard their captain begin to talk to himself out of the blue and, if Altaïr’s hunch was correct, then his helmsman and navigator appeared to be playing footsie under their consoles.

He withdrew again.

_ What do you mean?  _ He had only been distracted for a few days - two, maybe. Three at the most. Time grew irrelevant when Altaïr was deep inside his files. When Ezio grew even frostier, he carefully checked the date. 

Ah.  _ Ten _ days.

_ I did not realize I was so preoccupied. _

 

“I suppose that is a habit of yours. Next time, give me some warning.” Ezio tried not to sound like a scorned girlfriend, but after having Altaïr spread through his entire being and accompany him for every second of every day, the sudden silence had been jarring and unpleasant.

His crew wouldn’t question him even if they heard him, but Ezio had perfected speaking low under his breath regardless.

 

_ I will,  _ he promised, relieved by how easily Ezio gave up his irritation.  _ I learned much from Prescott. As I suspected, he was the primary betrayer of Malik’s trust. That was how he got close enough to kill him and how he stole the Apple in the first place. _

This conspiracy had brewed under his nose for years. Abbas had been careful to not tip his hand before he was ready, and he’d bided his time, poisoning his peers, earning loyalties through blackmail and bribery, and killing the ones he could not turn. Altaïr had always feared an attack from outside. Yet, he should have spent his time watching his brothers instead.

_ But I have more names now. More people.  _ Altaïr’s presence grew cold and his voice was stiff with anger.  _ They will all die. _

 

“That can be arranged. Give their names to me.” Finally, some progress. Ezio could forgive the long silence, as long as something came of it. He didn’t like it when Altaïr retreated into his head and gave him nothing to work with, no one to talk to about this. He’d noticed that he held the people around him at distance, but that was something he didn’t discuss with Altaïr either.

Ezio was a fairly easy-going captain, but ever since he’d taken on Altaïr, he kept those social relationships distant. Locking himself away instead of mingling with the crew, talking to the voice in his head instead of the people he was supposed to trust.

“But I do mean what I said. Don’t shut me out. We’re a team, you got that?”

 

_ I… yes. Of course. A team.  _ His voice solidified from the icy, brittle whisper it was.  _ We’re a team. _

His last one had fallen apart spectacularly. Altaïr hoped that this one would not go the same way as the old. He pulled out the names he’d discovered and pressed them to the forefront of Ezio’s mind until he knew them too.  _ Oxendine. Mori. Durant. _

He needed to get away from the pain of Prescott’s memories. Altaïr curled closer to Ezio until their senses linked and beheld him, his mind. It was the closest he could get to touching the other man - the closest he could get to touch in general. All of him had been eaten up by what he needed to know that he had locked himself up again, in the same way he used to lock himself up with the Apple, and now other, forgotten parts of his brain reminded him how nice company was. How good Ezio was.

_ I think I missed you. _

 

Ezio considered continuing his pettiness for a moment, then let it drop away. Perhaps it wasn’t the same for Altaïr, the constant want for his company, despite his words. Ezio was Altaïr’s only outlet in the entire universe, and he was not some mystical legend of the past. Of course Ezio wanted to know Altaïr, but perhaps he was presuming too much from the other side of the equation. Quietly, he decided that maybe he should ease up on his attachment. He wasn’t a starstruck teenager, after all.

“I’ve missed your voice. It was too quiet,” he decided to carry on, the subject at odds with his decision. “These names...I’ll run them through my private terminal. Better not to let anyone know I’m looking for them.”

 

_ Good call. Oxendine should be the headmaster of the academy. Mori handles the armory. Durant… Durant is a commander, though I didn’t get enough to know commander of what. _

Well, they had a plan now, one that didn’t involve Ezio puttering around in Brotherhood space taking care of milk runs. They needed to move quickly, strike while the iron was hot. Altaïr was about to suggest something when Lydia straightened up at her console.

“Captain,” she said, her voice carrying through the bridge. Even the navigator and helmsman paused their flirting to listen. “We have a call from HQ. It’s… the ID belongs to Grandmaster Abbas.”

 

“What?” Ezio snapped to attention. Abbas himself? He tensed, jaw clicking as he considered the possibility of having been discovered at the research lab, somehow. Maybe they missed a camera. Maybe Prescott had gotten a glimpse of his face...

The bridge was quiet, waiting for his decision, which really only could be one thing.

“On the main screen, then.”

 

The  _ Firenze _ ’s viewscreen redirected them to the Grandmaster himself. The years had not treated him kindly: heavy bags hung under his brown eyes, and his stern, bloodless lips were bracketed by thick, liver-spotted jowls. His hair had been shorn close to the skull but it couldn’t conceal his retreating hairline, or the silver bristles that caught the harsh light of his command center; yet, despite his advanced age, Abbas retained a sense of cold calculation to his poise. Most people at HQ wore the cloth uniform of the Brotherhood, perhaps the hooded coat over it if they were particularly formal; in sharp contrast, Abbas always wore his white ceramo-armor. His pitiless gaze surveyed the entire bridge before he settled down on Ezio like the red dot of a sniper.

“Captain Auditore,” he croaked with a voice sandpapered down by too many years of shouting. “The  _ Firenze _ seems to be all over the Brotherhood as of late - it is good to see that you are completing your duties so promptly, though I am sure Hedonia greatly misses your patronage.”

His flat whisper didn’t indicate if his words were a joke, or an insult. Nobody on the bridge moved.

“Recent events, however, threaten the peace that we all seek to uphold. Have you heard of Dr. Prescott’s tragic passing? I was informed that it was a stroke.”

 

“Dr. Prescott is dead?” Alarm ran through Ezio, but it didn’t reach his face. He knew for a fact that he’d left the man alive. With a throbbing headache, maybe, but not in a critical condition. And now he was dead?

It couldn’t be a coincidence.

“I’m sorry to hear that. But what does Dr. Prescott have to do with your call, Grandmaster? Medical investigation isn’t really part of my skill-set.”

Ezio kept eye contact with the man on screen and was surprised to find genuine contempt run through his veins. It might have been Altaïr’s, but it felt much closer to the rage he was so familiar with. Thinking of Altaïr’s fate only worsened the emotion and Ezio’s gaze hardened.

 

“I was merely passing on the news,” Abbas said flatly. “But I do have another purpose for this call. You are to come to me by Friday at oh-six-hundred hours for a mission. The details will be conveyed to you upon arrival.”

Abbas paused then, though for no discernable reason. He simply scrutinized Ezio, matching his fiery stare with his own dispassionate one, and the silence drew on until it became uncomfortable. Inside Ezio, Altaïr stirred like a distant storm, black and furious and looming. 

At last, Abbas spoke. “I see that you are currently in the Wendan system - a three days burn should bring you in time. Don’t be late, captain.”

The screen went dark. After a beat, Lydia quietly reported, “The connection was cut from their side, captain.”

“Friday?” Pryce hissed hotly, all games with Hale forgotten. “We’ll be ridin’ on  _ fumes _ t’make that kinda time crunch!”

 

“Then I suggest we get going, Lieutenant Payne.” Ezio got out of his chair, filled with anger that was tinged with Altaïr’s thoughts. They both seemed equally ready to kill something, right now, and the only option open to Ezio was the training deck. It would be the only thing to burn off the murderous rage.

“Picquery, you have the bridge.”

He could feel it boil under his skin, and he no longer knew if it came from him or Altaïr, but they needed to be alone.

 

Pryce’s face screwed up, but he knew better than to talk back to Ezio. He turned back to his console, muttering darkly, and began to plot out a route that might spare the  _ Firenze _ ’s fuel reserves and engines both for this absurd sprint back home. Seraphina watched Ezio get up, her gaze cool and piercing, and said nothing as she graciously nodded.

Once Ezio was gone, Pryce was the first to speak up. “What the hell’s up with  _ him?” _

“Lieutenant Payne,” Seraphina said, her tone quelling.

“You know I’m right,” he protested but he quieted after a brief stare-down with the commander. Seraphina watched him bullishly grab Hale’s hand and decided not to say anything about the breach of protocol. After all - he was just saying what they were all thinking.

_ What was wrong with the captain? _

 

_ He suspects,  _ Altaïr said as Ezio raced towards the training decks. He was angry, yes, but his anger was icy in comparison to Ezio’s hot rage. He had no blood rushing in his ears, no heat crawling over his circuits - all he could think about was Abbas and revenge.

How did he know to connect Ezio to Prescott? Altaïr had made sure that the security wouldn’t retain his identity after the hour time slot and almost nobody had seen Ezio’s face after Altaïr mixed up all the guard routines. Was it Prescott? No, impossible. In fact, Altaïr was rather sure his hasty extraction had been the cause of his rapid demise.

_ Maybe he always suspected. The Brotherhood let you go very quickly after you discovered me. _

 

“They cannot know. Perhaps I’ve been a thorn in their side before.”

Ezio needed to kill a few virtual enemies, in hopes that their tinny, dying cries could soothe some of the rage away before he met the Grandmaster, the architect of Altaïr’s demise.

He doubted it.


	10. Chapter 10

And he was right.

By the time the Firenze landed in Masyaf again, Ezio’s rage had not subsided. It had solidified into a dark void that settled over his heart, festering with each passing day.

By now, he was quite sure that the Brotherhood was uncomfortably aware of him, and that this meeting was bound to be a test of his loyalty. There could be no way that it was simply a matter of a mission, a personal briefing on who in the universe needed to die.

This was more. This was personal, about him.

Whether it was connected to Prescott or not was the key to the answer. Unfortunately, Ezio didn’t have the time to investigate what the true reasoning behind this summons was when he had to march into the Grandmaster’s ostentatious office at six in the morning.

He went in full uniform, from hood to bracers, everything in place. He wasn’t disarmed at the entrance, which was a small stroke of luck and potentially a good sign. So he wasn’t under that much suspicion. No one would be foolish enough to allow an assassin, a fully fledged agent, his entire arsenal if he didn’t still have the trust of the Grandmaster and his advisors.

 

Abbas’ personal study was located in the central tower, the same one that bore the heavy banner of the Brotherhood, and it was the most fortified of its seven sisters. The Morning Star, as it was named, to Altaïr’s scorn, was impossibly smooth and crackled with a perpetual mantle of white-tongued electricity, so that anyone who attempted to scale it would not only have no grip, but be cooked for their presumption. When Ezio had still been in the academy, a group of overconfident students had tried to climb the tower to show off. After their melted corpses went up on display, no one ever tried again.

The cool light of morning lent the Morning Star a cruel glitter. As Ezio drew closer to it, he saw how the tower sparked with menacing spears of lightning. Once he was past the sound-occluding shields, the structure emitted a low hum that burrowed into the back of one’s brain, and the air stunk of burnt plastic and ozone.

The honor guard that ringed the base of the tower forced Ezio to pull his hood down before he faced the Grandmaster, but his arms went unmolested. Once the exhaustive scan of him was complete, the captain of the guard, Dharma Vishdumat, a grizzled, thickset man in heavy ceramo-plate, waved him through. The protections on the doorway hummed a little louder before dropping silent, granting him access.

From here on out, however, Ezio had to climb a winding, circular staircase to reach the top, and periodically halted as different barriers had to be shut off for him to pass through.

_ He is paranoid,  _ Altaïr noted as they passed through an arclight gate. As soon as Ezio was through, the wall of menacing light was back again.  _ The betrayer must always fear his own kind. _

He continued to remark on the defenses of the tower as they went higher and higher, expecting no reply. Not after he sternly instructed Ezio en route to not breathe a word in reply to preserve their meager cover.

_ And yet,  _ Altaïr said, voice level, still as ice, and  _ seeing _ past Abbas’ falsehoods with implacable clarity,  _ he could have foregone this and hidden instead. Abbas hungers for eyes even as he fears them. _

 

The commentary worked well to balance out Ezio's anger. His opinion of the Grandmaster had never been particularly high, mostly because Abbas never mentioned the founding principles or spoke of Altaïr, despite using his face at every turn to convince the Brotherhood that he was carrying out his will.

And then the thing with the students had come and shocked a young Ezio into questioning why anyone would go so far as to turn a mere wall into a deadly defense. As if Abbas didn't trust the fortress around him.

Of course, now Ezio understood. And yet, Abbas still saw people in person. It would be his undoing, Ezio promised that silently.

Finally, he reached the top of the staircase and was admitted into an ostentatious office.

 

Abbas was already inside when Ezio entered. He sat behind his desk, hunched, frog-like despite his armor, and when he heard the door, leaned back expectantly.

“Such a punctual agent,” Abbas said as he adjusted himself, then stilled. “Good. I appreciate that. Come here, Auditore.” He raised a hand and gestured for him to come forth. As he did, the gauntlet of his left hand unfolded back until his hand was bare, revealing the harsh stump where his ring finger would be, and the heavy gold signet ring that hugged his middle finger. He presented it to him wordlessly, expectant.

Altaïr bristled until the ferocity of his leashed anger prickled Ezio from the inside, but he maintained a stiff, stoic silence.

 

Ezio eyed the presented hand,  mystified by the gesture. This must be a new practice among the Brotherhood, because he couldn’t recall ever even having to bow his head. The Brotherhood functioned on principles of equality, not on exalting individuals. Instead of kneeling before Abbas or performing any sort of gesture of subservience to the old man, Ezio brought his right fist to his heart and inclined his head in the traditional assassin greeting and show of respect.

“Safety and peace upon you, Grandmaster.”

 

The silence drew on. Abbas examined Ezio silently before he too returned his nod and lowered his hand. The gauntlet folded over his hand once more.

Perhaps Ezio should have done it, Altaïr thought, though he could not fault him for refusing to. Altaïr was not so sure  _ he _ would have done it, had he been in his shoes.

“Safety and peace, captain,” Abbas said. “You must be wondering what the mission I have for you is. Do not worry - this won’t take long. We have -  _ had  _ \- some… unsavory elements in the Brotherhood and, up until now, I tolerated their radicalism. However, Dr. Prescott’s passing tells me that I have been, perhaps, too lenient as of late. Now, these elements are being culled. And yet, even the tightest net has its holes.”

Abbas turned his right hand over, revealing a small black projector in the palm of his gauntlet. As Ezio watched, blue light shot out of it and formed into a screen over his hand. The screen then separated into four panels, each one bearing a different face - two men and two women, all of whom looked younger than Ezio.

“I have reason to believe that these four are the ones responsible for the good doctor’s sudden end,” Abbas said. “They escaped Masyaf on Monday, when I contacted you. Thus is your mission. Hunt these traitors down. Exterminate them and bring back their cortical keys.”

Their names glowed under their faces.  _ Desmond Miles. Lucy Stillman. Rebecca Crane. Shaun Hastings. _

 

Ezio’s gaze wandered over the four young faces. He recognized one of them as the technician that he’d encountered in Masyaf weeks before. The other, Miles, was a younger captain. Not a fully fledged assassin as of yet, but a solid hope for the future. He’d been nowhere near Dr. Prescott’s lab. Ezio knew none of them were involved with what had happened, but he did wonder why they, in particular, would oppose Abbas in any way. Enough to inspire his wrath. 

Miles and Crane he knew, Stillman and Hastings drew a blank. But it didn’t matter who they were; Ezio no longer trusted the Grandmaster and his decisions. They probably still all had to die by his hand, but he could at least let them know that it was not in vain.

“May I ask what made them suspicious, sir? Executing members of the Brotherhood is a delicate procedure. You do have definitive proof, don’t you?”

 

Once again, that peculiar silence fell, as if Abbas was readjusting his thoughts each time Ezio spoke. Despite it, his bland expression didn’t change a whit as he spoke. “Of course, captain. I would always make sure to have evidence before I consign one of mine to death. What happens to them will be tragic, but necessary.”

Abbas inspected Ezio, then tilted his head a fraction. “Doing this reminds me of our founder. Altaïr ibn La’Ahad. I knew him before he left. He emphasized the necessity of our security.”

_ An ideal you now sunder,  _ Altaïr murmured. His anger had moved past heated outrage now. Instead, he carried an inexorable sense of purpose; an intensity of will that cleaved past fleeting emotions and only saw what  _ would _ be done.  _ Be calm, Ezio. He will die when the time comes. _

 

Ezio bottled his rage and gave Abbas all pretense of his respect. It was bold of him to bring up Altaïr like this, especially because Abbas had been at the graduation where Ezio spoke for his class and heard exactly what kind of opinion the young assassin had of the founding father of the Brotherhood.

So really, Abbas was either trying to make a dig at him or he was foolishly forgetful.

“It is a shame that such security was not practiced prior to his departure, or he might still be with us today.”

Ezio met Abbas’ gaze, and there was nothing but challenge in his eyes. Let the old man see. Ezio was not afraid of the Grandmaster or his reach. He’d put this bastard in the ground to rot, and that, he swore.

 

“A shame,” Abbas nodded. “A great and terrible shame. But I would not worry, captain. I think that he may come back to us somehow.” His thin lips quirked. “Eventually.”

He waved at the door. “You are free to go, Auditore. I expect your mission to be complete within the month. Do take care.”

 

“Of course, Grandmaster.” Ezio saluted him traditionally once more before making his way out of the office. It had been vague, that last statement from Abbas, and Ezio wanted to speak with Altaïr about what it could mean. But first, he had to return to his ship and track down four young members of the Brotherhood that would have to die for the cause. It would be a terrible waste, but Ezio wasn’t ready to strike down Abbas just yet, and he couldn’t afford to fall under absolute suspicion.

He might have been confrontational in the office, but he’d done nothing outright defiant. Ezio had a reputation as an unruly, yet brilliant assassin, and one who had a difficult time with authority. So as far as Abbas knew, he should be acting completely normally.

Once the fortress was behind him, Ezio pulled his hood back up and brushed the mask over his face. It muffled his voice when he was out in public and allowed him to speak.

“The gall of that old bastard.”

 

_ He had the gall to stage a coup and do  _ **_this_ ** _ to Masyaf. Nothing surprises me anymore.  _ Altaïr tried to think of a way for them to avoid killing the four agents and still coming back here free of suspicion. In this day and age, faking a convincing death was nigh-impossible, not when implants and cortical keys and tracers existed.

_ Go back to the Firenze, Ezio. Don’t linger here. _

 

“I wasn’t planning on it. It’s too tempting to just cut off the head right now.” Ezio picked up the pace, getting off of the streets and onto the rooftops. It was a faster way of travelling and no one would argue with him, not in his uniform, not here, in the port of Masyaf. He just wanted to get back to his ship, and possibly repeatedly kill a custom face in the training room. He wanted to prepare to kill Abbas, even though that goal was months, if not years, away.

“Did you see the ring? That was not made in Masyaf. I’ve seen something like it before.”

On  _ Acre _ . On a dead Templar agent. Ezio remembered all too well.

 

_ Templar, you think?  _ The ring had been thick and heavy, the kind of ring that was used to symbolize something.  _ He was testing you. Testing your loyalty. I think he will keep a keen eye on you during your mission. _

Altaïr was tempted to tell Ezio to throw all caution to the wind –  to tell these young assassins to run and then to steal away the  _ Firenze _ –  but there was no more time to waste on fantasies, not when every moment was a countdown and Prescott was merely the beginning.

_ Endeavor to avoid killing them just yet, Ezio. They may be of help to us if their intentions align with ours. _

 

“I don’t know how I can avoid killing them. Perhaps I could convince them to remove their corticals...” it would leave all four of them stripped of all the benefits of implant enhancement, but it could also potentially save their lives. Convincing someone to let their cortical be removed was like asking them to be blinded and deafened to the world they lived in. Not to mention that it was a complicated procedure.

Ezio didn’t waste any time in returning to his ship. As soon as it was fueled, they’d leave for their terrible mission. There wouldn’t be much room for error, not with the eyes of the Brotherhood leadership on them.

 

_ A solution will present itself,  _ Altaïr said with calm certainty.

When they arrived at the  _ Firenze _ ’s dock, they found her swarming with technicians and engineers. Lieutenant Pryce oversaw the matter even though he was, as the navigator, not the officer responsible for this part of ship care.

“‘Lo, captain,” he said once Ezio was near. “We nearly blew out the impulse drives doin’ that straight burn over here. She should spend at least a week like this so we can take care of all the micro-fractures in the engine block.”

 

“We don’t have a week.” Ezio let the irritation slip into his voice, even though Payne probably didn’t deserve it. But he had good reason to be beyond patience right now. The sooner they left Masyaf, the better.

“I need her ready in three days, no more. We have work to do.”

And by we, it was mostly him, and his crew and ship needed to get him there.

 

Pryce adopted an unpleasant expression. “Three?” he groused. “You’re gonna be pushin’ her, captain, and that kinda wear and tear catches up over time. As soon as we finish this top-secret thing of yours, we need to park in Masyaf.”

Once they were safely ensconced in the ship, Altaïr spoke.

_ We also should not trust this mission to be what it seems. Perhaps those agents are not traitors at all. _

 

“I assume they are not, just as you never were. But I do not have time to investigate each of them, not when-”

Ezio had been talking, as usual, stepping out of the lift at the training deck level, expecting it to be empty. It was not. And judging by the gaze upon him, his first lieutenant had definitely heard him speak to no one, and he would not skirt by without an explanation.

Well. Shit.

He supposed he had been rather...distant with his crew as of late, but with everything going on around him, there’d been no space in his head to consider their confusion.

 

_ No, I mean they may be tools of Abbas -  _ Altaïr cut himself off as well, even though it was not necessary on his end. He watched Sera just as she watched Ezio. Now  _ there _ was a woman with the instincts of a predator –  the only reason she hadn’t taken over the ship entirely was because Ezio’s personality was big enough to handle it (and even then, she still ended up in command more often than not when the captain was off on a foolhardy mission).

Seraphina stood to attention in front of her captain, but her eyes were assessing. With a small nod of respect, she said, “I do believe it’s common courtesy on Masyaf to not use communicators, sir.”

Her gaze said she didn’t believe it even as she said it, but Sera had a good head on her shoulders. She knew when to pry and when to step back.

 

“I’m breaching a lot of courtesy rules today, it seems.” His first officer deserved more of an explanation, but it would have to wait. Ezio was loathed to involve his entire crew in this affair. They were good people, but he couldn’t trust each of them. Maybe he couldn’t even trust any of them. The less they knew, the less they could give away if pressured. Ezio wouldn’t like to see them under investigation for his actions, but it was a very real possibility.

Especially if the Grandmaster was as suspicious as he appeared to be.

“Is there something you need to report to me, Picquery? You do not usually wait for me on this deck.”

 

“Well, strangely enough,” she said, jerking her head over to the side, “it appears that we weren’t allowed to leave the docks, though no one could tell me  _ why.  _ And then, suddenly, we’re granted free movement again, just as  _ you _ come back to us.”

Accusation sharpened her look. “I saw blasters in the cordon. I think if we tried to move, we would’ve been feeling the heat right now. So let me ask you now, not as subordinate to captain, but rather as me to you –  what the hell is going on? Why did the Grandmaster summon you?”

_ He would have killed them,  _ Altaïr said.  _ If any of them triggered his suspicions, or if you acted unwisely, then they all would have died. Tell her some of the truth, Ezio. She will find out sooner or later, and it is best to stay on the good side of someone like her. _

 

“Tensions are high in Masyaf. You heard of Prescott’s untimely passing, of course.” Ezio ignored Altaïr’s advice. If Abbas was suspicious of his crew as well, it was even more crucial to play his cards close to his chest. The less they knew, the less danger they were in. Unfortunately, he couldn’t fly his ship alone, otherwise, he might have considered letting his crew have an extended leave of absence.

“There’s an investigation, and there are suspects. Suspects we are to hunt down. Heightened security measures would be commonplace.”

Ezio gave her a long look, assessing her grasp of the situation. He’d always maintained a professional relationship with his crew, even if some of them, like Picquery, were strikingly attractive. He was glad for it now. Less attachment, less danger.

 

Realizing he was being ignored, Altaïr grumbled irritably and turned away from Ezio, leaving his implants cold. If his advice was to be ignored, then he would allow Ezio to handle this alone.

“I didn’t see those “heightened security measures” with any other ship around us,” Sera said, quieter now. Mistrust made her expression harden, her lips pursing. “Very well then, captain. Now, if you’ll excuse me - I need to head out to handle personal matters.”

She turned and left the deck in a swift march, her back ramrod straight. Once the door locked behind her, Altaïr reemerged.

_ No man is an island. Do you expect yourself to bear this burden alone? _

 

“It is better if I do.” Ezio mulled over whether or not it was wise to tell Altaïr the heart of his reasoning, and decided that sharing it with this one man in his head was acceptable. 

“I never found out why my father was killed, but they took out my entire family. I am beginning to believe that there was reason for it, and that the fatal blow was decided in Masyaf.”

He remembered his father dimly. A proud but loving man who had never shied away from speaking his opinion, and had raised his four children to be much the same. Ezio had been the youngest, and barely at speaking age when tragedy struck the Auditores, but now, as a grown man who could see the seeds of corruption sewn wide and deep in the organization he belonged to, he could put together a different reasoning.

 

_ That is not yet a reason for you to conceal it from her. Unless you believe her to be complicit as well?  _ Altaïr huffed as he circled the pond of Ezio’s mind, patient and slow.  _ That verges too close to paranoia for my liking. Even I trusted some people. _

Even if Abbas had been a mistake, Maria and Malik had not been. Where would he himself be if he consigned himself to that kind of lonely, untrusting existence. Not nearly as accomplished. Not nearly as happy.

_ But your theory interests me. Tell me more. _

The simulation that Sera interrupted continued to load. Various targets appeared around Ezio and Altaïr noted, with some humor, that they were all old, toadish, and armored.

 

The simulations wouldn’t pose much of a challenge, but they were a welcome distraction from the mood bubbling up in Ezio. He was displeased, to say the least. Abbas, the conspiracy, now the memories of his family and the potential threat to his crew...none of this was pleasant business or easy to handle.

And yet, he doubted anyone else would be as capable at it as him. 

“I do not remember, I was too young. But I should have asked more questions. How the information of our family home got out. Why our supposed enemies, the Templars, only struck one home. Why did they only kill my family, and why was I spared? The Brotherhood told me that I was too traumatized to remember, and that the perpetrators have paid, but they have not. It’s too convenient. My father was a good man. Maybe he too was an obstacle to the Grandmaster.”

 

Altaïr noted Ezio’s avoidance of his admonishment and let it be – for now. This was one of those lessons that could not be told, and could only be learnt through experience. Hopefully, Ezio’s lesson would not be as painful as that of Altaïr’s.

_ Maybe,  _ he said neutrally. He did not know enough about the situation behind Ezio’s family’s death to say for certain – his memories of the time were unclear, and washed out by both stress and trauma.  _ The closer we get to Abbas and the truth, the more we will surely learn. Now, as I was saying before Lieutenant Picquery interrupted us – I wonder if, perhaps, those four assassins are working for Abbas instead. _

 

“Then why would he want them dead? Wouldn't he be leading us closer to him with that? This mission?” Ezio wondered just how callous the Grandmaster was with the lives entrusted to him. It sickened Ezio to know that a man like that was respected and obeyed. Surely, he was fooling those around him. Not every member of the Brotherhood could function with those false principles in their minds. Abbas was the rotten core, but how far did his roots of corruption spread?

 

_ Perhaps they are more skilled than any of us realize.  _ Or perhaps this theory-crafting was going on for too long.  _ All I say is to question everything. Believe nothing. Do not rush your blade before you’ve obtained your answers. Abbas would not have survived this long without being clever. _

And ruthless.

Ezio slaughtered another sim before the simulation ended. His kill count flashed in the air briefly:  _ 50 dead. _

 

“Then we will simply have to be more clever.” Ezio was satisfied with the results of his training. Having quenched his bloodlust with virtual destruction.

“And I shall never again simply execute without thought. No one deserves that kind of ruthless end.”

 

_ To think is what makes us better than animals,  _ Altaïr agreed as the deck reformed around them, the sim ending.  _ To learn, elevates us. Tread carefully, Ezio – nothing is true. _

 

Ezio didn't need to answer out loud. The maxim was ingrained into his very soul.

_ Everything is permitted. _


	11. Chapter 11

The  _ Modernity  _ floated amiably next to the  _ Firenze _ . Ezio gazed out at her white hull and considered how the deed should be done. He had no doubt that an assault on the captain of the vessel would go over poorly. Opening fire on a Brotherhood ship would also send a very wrong notion. He'd have to get in close, speak with Desmond Miles and then decide whether or not he should live.

He steeled himself as the bridge across the ships pressurized and beckoned him to cross.

He was met by the captain himself. He was so much younger than Ezio expected.

“Captain Miles?”captain himself, and Ezio was startled by how young he was. This couldn’t possibly be one of Abbas’ embittered allies. If anything, he was an unknowing pawn.

“Captain Miles. Thank you for answering the hail.”

 

Desmond stood up a little straighter when Captain Auditore spoke, similar to a puppy eager to please. He threw up a snappy salute and said, “Hello, captain. It’s good to see you. I – we were just finishing up here. Heading back home soon, obviously.”

Desmond shifted a little as he lied. The Modernity had done its best to hide from the Firenze's sight before it was forced to concede victory and even now, his crew was precariously sparse. On a ship that should have held at least twenty crewmates, only six people could be seen, and they all worked with one eye on the Firenze’s captain.

_ If this is a trap, it is a poor one. _

 

“Finishing up what, if I may ask, captain?” Ezio silently agreed. Six people were nothing to hold Ezio back. If this was to be an ambush, they might as well have lead some lambs in for him to slaughter. Miles looked uncomfortable, like a child squirming before their authoritative parents.

Ezio indicated that Desmond should lead the way.

“We could speak somewhere more private, if you wish.”

 

His eyes flicked from side-to-side as Desmond weighed his options. The rabbity air around him grew a little more before being replaced by resignation, and he slumped a little as he nodded. “...yes, that works. Er, come along, then.”

Desmond lead Ezio away from the bridge and deeper into the internals of the Modernity. It was bigger than the Firenze, but not as advanced nor as powerful, and some of its age showed in the faded, yellowed corridors that they walked through.

Once they reached Desmond’s private quarters, however, he spun around with his hands in the air. “Alright,” he said, tone soothing, “it’s not what you think it is, Captain Auditore.”

 

“Oh?” Ezio continued to have the impression of a guilty child before a parent, rather than a dangerous agent working to undermine the supposed enemies of the Brotherhood.

Maybe Desmond Miles had a guilty conscience and was looking to unburden himself. Ezio would give him opportunity to explain himself. He’d vowed to change his actions, to no longer be the executioner. 

“Tell me what it is I’m thinking, Miles.”

 

“I know the Grandmaster thinks we’re traitors,” Desmond said, “and yes, you might say some of what we did is kind of close. But it’s for a good cause. Did you know that Dr. Prescott is dead?”

 

“I did. The Grandmaster informed me himself.” Ezio folded his arms, giving Desmond the benefit of the doubt. His expression remained perfectly neutral, but he was tempted to add that he’d been the instrument in arranging the circumstances of Prescott’s death. Or brain death, essentially. The murder weapon rested snugly in his cortical implant.

“So you know I’m here to kill you. You’re aware of the execution order.”

 

“Let’s not get too hasty now,” Desmond continued. “Well, before he died, some… people might’ve been investigating something to do with him. Might’ve been me, and a couple others. Something strange was going on. Something… wrong. So we decided to look and. Well.”

_ He’s talking about the Apple, _ Altaïr said in a moment of clarity.  _ He and his colleagues found out about it. _

“Prescott was working on something. Something really bad. And we almost had it worked out when he died, and things might have worked out in a way that made it look like we were responsible for it. Which we’re not,” Desmond added when Ezio’s eyes narrowed.

 

“Something really bad? You’ll have to be more specific. Doctor Prescott was a marvel of terrible ideas.” Ezio made no motion to attack the younger captain, patient for now. Every moment that they spoke, it became clearer that they were not working for Abbas. They’d fallen into a situation, trapped between what Ezio did and what Abbas knew.

It was good to know that other members of the Brotherhood had begun to ask questions.

 

Desmond’s face grew a little pained, as if he didn’t want to divulge, but the situation wasn’t exactly ideal for him. “...okay. I’ll keep it simple. You know aliens? Uh, they exist. And Prescott was working on something related to them. A… thing. A weapon, you could say. I wasn’t the one to find out – Lucy figured it out. And then she brought Rebecca and Shaun into it, and then she involved me. For some reason… the thing kinda… responds to me?”

_ What? _ Altaïr sat up in Ezio’s mind, abandoning caution for utter fascination.  _ The Apple responds to him? _

 

“It does? You mean you see things in it? The Precursors?” Ezio was equally surprised, abandoning his indifferent patience for curiosity. Also, if these four agents knew more about the Apple, he could probably use them alive better than dead.

 

“You know about it?” Desmond drew back as his expression grew guarded. “I know the Grandmaster sent you after me, but I wasn’t aware that he would also – never mind. Yeah. I see stuff in it. I think they’re the aliens who made it, but I’m not sure. It’s not very clear.”

Desmond glanced down at Ezio’s offline wrist-blade before he continued. “And… I’ve seen something else. Not aliens. I think I saw the founder.”

_ This changes everything, _ Altaïr said, quiet, amazed.  _ Ezio… he… he saw me like I saw you. _

 

“The founder. Altaïr ibn-La’Ahad. You saw him in the Apple.”

Well, this was getting more complicated by the minute. Now, Ezio really couldn’t kill these four young agents. They knew of the Apple, of Prescott’s research, possibly of Altaïr and the Precursors and they’d be essential if they agreed with his assessment of corruption in the Brotherhood.

Ezio rubbed over his face, trying to piece this together. Or rather, piece together an alternative.

“It is clear to me that killing you would be quite detrimental to my cause. You must know that Grandmaster Abbas does not wish to let the knowledge of these aliens and their artifacts slip into the light, but that is not all he conceals. He is corrupt, sick. He poisons the Brotherhood, and you and your friends chose a poor moment in time to catch his eye.”

 

“Wait,” Desmond said. “So you’re not going to kill me, my friends, and then bring our bodies back to Masyaf?”

 

“If I can find a way to avoid it, no. Your cortical patches will have to be removed. Dio, this makes things very complicated.”

Ezio looked over the man in front of him, or should he call him a boy. He was barely scraping at twenty years old, probably, or he lacked the experience to make for a hardened face. 

“I’ve been conducting my own investigation, and that Apple is at the heart of it. Doctor Prescott had too much valuable information to be allowed to live. It was an inevitable death. I am sorry it put a mark on your back.”

He looked away, touching the back of his neck. It had become habit. “What do you think? Hide them somewhere? They know something.”

At Desmond’s incredulous look, Ezio gestured vaguely. “Turing AI. I can explain later.”

 

“...yeah…” Desmond slowly said, nodding carefully. “Right. Sure. Great to hear that, Captain Auditore.”

From behind Ezio, Lucy dropped her camo with a liquid shimmer of light. She’d heard everything but, ignoring Desmond’s frantic hand gestures, she darted forward with her wrist-blade active, stabbing towards Ezio’s kidney. The only hint of its presence was the soft buzz-hum of the laser, but Altaïr noted it automatically.

_ Seven o’clock. _

 

Ezio whirled to deal with the problem just in time. He sidestepped the laser blade and grabbed the assassin by the wrist, deactivating the entire mechanism before he came down hard on her elbow and spun the young woman around until she was pressed behind his arm, Ezio’s blade at her neck.

“Lucy Stillman, I presume.”

 

She didn’t have time to reply as Desmond pulled his blaster out and aimed for Ezio’s leg. He pumped the battery in it to empty before he jabbed his blade at Ezio’s hood. All non-lethal, technically, but if it landed, it wouldn’t be pretty.

Lucy used the distraction to tug out the laserblade sheathed to her hip, and stabbed down at his hip.

 

Ezio's first reaction would have been to use Lucy as a shield against the blaster, but he needed these young people to be alive and talking, not corpses as Abbas had demanded.

Lucy would find herself dragged back, then kicked forward and away from Ezio as she went for her blade. He took care of Desmond first, jamming his laserblade into the blaster far enough to slice through the whole, damn thing. He avoided cutting off Desmond's hand, barely.

There was no time to be gentle so he activated the blaster that accompanied his blade on stun, hitting Desmond squarely in the chest. He managed it just in time to meet Lucy's blade with his own.

“I'm not your enemy.” He stated as he proceeded to disarm her with a twist of his blade, forcing her to let go or break her wrist holding onto her weapon.

 

Desmond groaned as he slammed against the opposite wall with a dull thunk, the front of his ceramo-armor scorched black. He slid down down, still groaning, while Lucy let go of her blade, aimed a punch at Ezio, and found that blocked too.

Her eyes glittered as she stared him down, breathing hard. She said nothing until Desmond groaned again.

“I told you we couldn’t beat him,” he said, one finger raised, still on the ground. “That’s, like,  _ Captain Auditore.” _

“There are no Turing AI’s in this side of the galaxy,” Lucy said, her voice level.

“Kind of you to tell me, but you are wrong about that too.” Ezio had not even broken a sweat. These agents were too young to be a threat to him personally. If they wanted to stand a chance, they should have doubled their numbers and set a better trap than this ambush.

“Stand down. I'm not here to kill you, but if you continue, I will have no other choice.”

Ezio deactivated his weapons, but he wasn't helpless without them. 

Lucy narrowed her eyes but, after a long moment and a glance backwards at Desmond, she stood down. She stepped away from Ezio and went to help pull Desmond up, who poked at the scorch mark on his chest with a grimace.

“Right, okay…” Desmond said once Lucy settled down at his side. “Now that we have that out of the way, I assume it’s safe to guess that you’re  _ not _ on the Grandmaster’s side?”

_ Faking their deaths will be hard, but not impossible,  _ Altaïr chimed in.  _ Get me into a terminal. I must speak with them. _

“Correct. But I also do not have time to play games with you.” Ezio smoothed out his hood, which may or may not have suffered some laser damage. He looked around for a suitable terminal for his demanding passenger. If the young agents believed him now, they might even believe that Altaïr was real.

He found a terminal that was probably for Desmond’s private use and walked over to it, turning his back on Desmond and Lucy. He sucked in a deep breath when the chip ejected and he pressed it gently into the terminal, which lit up far too brightly for his taste.

“He will explain.”

“Lucy. Desmond. It is good to meet you at last.” Lucy jumped and stepped in front of Desmond when Altaïr spoke, but she didn’t do anything else. Behind Lucy, Desmond gaped at his terminal. “I am indeed what you may think of as a Turing AI. I was made from a brain scan of myself before I died.”

“The founder is an  _ AI?”  _ Lucy said, incredulous.

“Not a true AI,” Altaïr corrected mildly. “But yes. My body died of wounds, but my mind continues. There is much about the Brotherhood you and your compatriots are not aware of, Lucy, Desmond. The artifact that Dr. Prescott possessed was once mine. It belonged to an alien race I called the Precursors. And Abbas, who once betrayed me, lusts for its power, and will kill you for what you know.”

“Alright, I think – okay. Let’s just slow down here. So you’re alive,” Desmond said, pointing at the terminal, “and you knew about the thing that Prescott had, but you also died because of… the Grandmaster?”

“A betrayal,” Altaïr confirmed. “A civil war within the Brotherhood. When he stole the Apple from Malik, whose care I left it in, he used it to compel those once loyal to me to betray me. I escaped, just barely, on the  _ Eagle.” _

“But when…” his eyes widened. “That distress call next to V-F18. That was you, wasn’t it?”

“Correct, Desmond.”

“So what are you doing now?” Lucy demanded, taking a step closer. “I remember Rebecca telling me that she saw Captain Auditore in R&D even though he never goes there – was that you two? Did you kill Prescott?”

“We did,” Altaïr confirmed. “Though it was unintentional. But his death has painted targets on your backs and you can’t stay with the Brotherhood – or go back. Ezio was sent here to kill you, but both of us hope for an alternative.”

“You could join us,” Desmond suggested. “I mean, having Captain Auditore on our side would be pretty great.”

“No,” Altaïr said. “We still have our purposes in Masyaf. Ezio’s cover cannot be blown, not yet. We must fake your deaths.”

“This sounds great and all,” Desmond said, stepping out around Lucy. “And really - I appreciate not having Fifty-K kill the shit out of us. But… I gotta ask.” He looked to Ezio. “How do you know that this guy is  _ actually _ the founder and not like… a  _ really _ good fake?”

Ezio had listened quietly as Altaïr broke down the situation. It felt more complex than those few sentences encompassed, but they really didn’t have the time to sit down and chew through the fine details of the matter. 

At least Lucy and Desmond seemed somewhat approachable and open-minded. If they weren’t, this could get a whole lot uglier.

“He has proven himself worthy of my trust.” That wasn’t nearly enough of an explanation, but Ezio didn’t know how to word all the minute details that Altaïr had shared with him. 

“He...when he is inside my head, I have seen his memories. It would take more technology than we currently have to fake that kind of experience.” And the warmth with which Altaïr treated him with, the laughter of an AI, the feeling of companionship that no machine could replicate. But Ezio didn’t need to lay out his attachment to a chip in front of anyone.

“I’ve studied Altaïr for a long time. I am convinced that this is him, or what lives on of him.” He couldn’t quite keep the warmth out of his own voice. The admiration he’d had as a younger man continued to affect his judgement of the burden he’d taken on.

Lucy and Desmond exchanged looks. It was pretty clear that both of them didn’t buy it. Altaïr cleared his throat. “If you insert me into your implant, I can allow you to understand better.”

“Well, that sounds -” Desmond started, but Lucy cut him off.

“You’re  _ not _ going in our heads.”

“I will not access anything more than you allow me to,” he reassured, but Lucy looked prepared to fight the terminal if she had to. “Desmond, you said you saw into the Apple – when I was still with the Brotherhood, I did the same. I  _ saw _ things. Visions.”

“...did you see  _ them _ , too?” Desmond asked carefully.

“The Precursors,” Altaïr confirmed. “I never knew anyone else that the Apple would respond to – except for you now. I… don’t understand how that is.”

“I don’t know either,” Desmond said. “If I do put you in my head, do you promise to not end up frying my brain, or something?”

“Desmond,  _ no,”  _ Lucy said, “you don’t know what that thing is, or if any of them are telling the truth.”

“Lucy, come on - Captain Auditore’s apparently been running around with him in his head for practically a year and he’s fine. Right?” He looked at Ezio.

Ezio’s apprehension kept him from encouraging Desmond, and he wasn’t quite sure why. It wasn’t the same feeling he’d had when he used Altaïr as a weapon against Prescott’s brain, but it was similar in its nature. Putting Altaïr’s chip into another person felt like a very odd breach of personal right, even with a willing subject. Ezio had done it without question, had shoved an ancient chip from a terminal on a derelict ship right into his brain, but doing it to another person? It wasn’t his decision to make.

“I’m completely fine. Altaïr has never harmed me in any way. I cannot guarantee that his...functions are completely compatible with everyone and everything, but I’ve never experienced any negative side-effects.”

“Alright,” Desmond said, with a well-there-you-have-it sort of shrug. “Good enough for me. I’ll do it.”

Frustration filtered across Lucy’s expression, but Desmond didn’t seem inclined to change his mind. She threw her hands in the air with a loud sigh and walked away. Desmond tugged his cortical key out with a wince and waited, expectant.

“Ezio,” Altaïr said, “if you would?”

“If you’re sure,” Ezio muttered, ejecting the chip from the terminal and cradling it in his palm. The apprehension lingered and for a moment, he wondered how angry Altaïr might be if Ezio ignored him on this venture too. But they’d come here to convince Desmond and his colleagues of their cause and this was an essential step of the plan. It was not the time for Ezio to feel childishly selfish about sharing Altaïr’s presence.

“Turn around, captain Miles.”

He inserted the chip gently and watched Desmond’s expression.

Altaïr was much more careful this time as he entered Desmond’s mental space. He unfurled himself one byte at a time, and stopped each time Desmond winced. Outside, Desmond’s face screwed up as he tried to wrap his head around the sensation.

“Feels… weird,” he said, brows furrowing. “Uh… hot?”

_ Hello, Desmond,  _ Altaïr murmured and the young captain clapped his hand over his neck.  _ Don’t worry. It’s only me. _

“Oh, wow – okay. Voices in my head. Right. Uh, hi?”

_ I want to share my memories of the Apple with you. Will you do the same? _

“Yeah… sure. Do I need to  _ do _ anything, or…?”

_ It’s alright, Desmond,  _ Altaïr said. His voice grew vaguer as he dived into the depths of his brain.  _ Just don’t worry. _

“Sure, sure, of course.” He glanced at Ezio. “So, is this how it goes? He just… talks to you?” His implant twinged and he rubbed it. “Ah, my whole body feels weird.”

“That’s normal. He can’t localize to just your cortical implant. Don’t fight it, just let him go through you,” Ezio could at least offer assurance. He knew exactly what Desmond felt like right now, but it was strange to look at another person and know that Altaïr was inside of their head and implants. He ignored the twinge of possession. He’d best bury that thought before Altaïr was back inside of him, or else risk being very embarrassed.

“Try not holding your breath. Just...relax.”

“Yeah, absolutely.” When Lucy walked over to him, he glanced up at her and smiled wanly. “If my brain gets fried, I guess you can say “I told you so” one more time.”

She rolled her eyes but sat down next to him, their shoulders brushing, and interlinked their fingers together. “You’re an idiot,” she said, but her tone was not unkind.

Desmond’s head was not like Ezio’s. He was… youngish. Smaller. He didn’t have the same dark corners that Ezio had. Altaïr thumbed through his memories carefully, not touching anything that seemed private, and looked for the Apple.

He found it like a kernel of gold in the rich brown earth of his mind. Altaïr unearthed it, cradled it, and carefully brought himself close to it, and yes… yes. It was it. Desmond had seen the Apple and it had seen  _ him. _

Altaïr watched his own face play back to him in shades of gold.  _ How many times did you look into the Apple? _

“Not many?” Desmond said. “Twice, really. Once, when Lucy first showed it to me. Another time right before Prescott died.”

_ Was it clear? _

“No. It was foggy. Like a dream.”

_ I see.  _ He didn’t know why the Apple connected the two of them – or why Altaïr had never seen Desmond. What did it all mean? Altaïr pushed deeper into his memories, seeking an answer to his questions, but it remained frustratingly vague. It was like something was  _ missing _ from the visions, like a puzzle that didn’t have all its pieces.

_ I… I don’t know,  _ he said, finally frustrated.  _ I apologize. But here are my forays into the Apple. _

As he offered them, however, Desmond suddenly bent over. “Ow! Dude, no – that  _ hurts.  _ Can you –”

Inside him, Altaïr froze. His memories of the Apple were also incomplete, but he had assumed – had  _ always  _ assumed – that it was because he needed to look deeper. But could it be… could it really be…

_ I’m sorry, Desmond,  _ he said, distracted.  _ But this is necessary. _

Was  _ Desmond Miles _ the missing piece to  _ his _ visions instead?

Gold flooded Altaïr, flooded Desmond, and the young assassin jerked back, gold light leaking out from behind his eyes, from his mouth, his ears.

Ezio could do nothing but watch. At first, Desmond just seemed a little spaced out, lost in his head as Altaïr foraged around inside of his brain. There was nothing else he needed from Ezio, so he sat down by the terminal, keeping an eye on the young captain in case anything went differently than expected. 

It wasn’t until Desmond’s  _ eyes _ started shining that he leaned forward, alarmed. That had never happened to him, in all of the months that Altaïr had been in his head.

“What are you doing? He’s...he’s shining. Altaïr?”

If Desmond started spasming in pain, Ezio would probably have to pull the chip out by force.

Desmond’s legs kicked out and Lucy grabbed his shoulders, alarmed. “Desmond?” she demanded. “Desmond! Say something!”

His mouth moved but no sound came out. Just as Ezio began to move for him, however, he suddenly rocketed to his feet, nearly knocking Lucy over. She stepped back just in time, her face intent.

Desmond whipped around before Ezio could reach for his neck, and he covered the implant protectively with both hands. He didn’t do anything else, staring at the two of them, eyes glowing and unseeing, his expression void of emotion.  _ “Ezio,”  _ he said, and his voice came out layered, both him and Altaïr from within.  _ “Don’t. Something is happening and I can’t let you stop it.” _

Ezio had been fully prepared to wrestle Desmond to the ground and reclaim Altaïr’s chip, but the twin voices leaving Desmond’s mouth stopped him in his tracks.

“Something? What is something? Altaïr, what’s happening?” 

The worry was perhaps misplaced, but Ezio only had one chip of Altaïr, and potentially hundreds of Desmond Miles out in the universe. It pained him to do nothing, not knowing what was happening, whether Desmond and Altaïr were destroying each other or really transcending human understanding, but he was frozen in place.

Their visions, separate and disparate on their own, linked into a harmonious collective under Altaïr’s supervision. Suddenly, they made  _ sense,  _ and Altaïr wished he could have spent the next few hours just poring over everything in front of him.

The gold light slowly dulled until it was only Desmond again, and he looked up, blinking, his genial expression so serious that he aged ten years.  _ “His visions of the Apple were meant to be complete mine,” _ he said and now, Desmond was gone. He had been overwhelmed, though not snuffed.  _ “Everything makes sense now.” _

“Everything? Just like that?” Ezio watched his face carefully, but it didn’t look like Desmond’s previous expressions. There were edges there now, and experience, wisdom...it couldn’t be, but it was Altaïr. The face was slightly off, Desmond having some soft, rounded edges that Altaïr never had, but the resemblance was uncanny.

“Altaïr, you’re...talking. Just you, I don’t hear...how can this be?”

_ “The Apple has many strange qualities,”  _ Altaïr observed as he regarded Desmond’s hand…  _ his _ hand. Then, he looked up and reached out to touch Ezio. His knuckles brushed over one, stubbly cheek as he tilted his head and said,  _ “My synchrony with him is better than ours ever was. I wasn’t aware that was even possible.” _

For a moment, he was tempted, so, so tempted, to take this body as his own. To have a form again, to  _ feel _ again, was like one big rush of a drug beyond drugs. Desmond’s mind couldn’t fight his off. He was too young, too inexperienced, and Altaïr could, if he wanted, hold him down for forever and beyond.

“Desmond?” Lucy’s voice cut between them and Altaïr looked at her. Her wrist-blade was active and she looked ready to spring at him, knowing that Ezio could cut her down but not caring. “What did you do to him?”

Altaïr studied her face. Then he smiled a little, wistful.

_ “Nothing I will do for long,”  _ he said as he dropped his hand from Ezio’s face.  _ “He will be back soon enough. Ezio – pull me out.”  _

Ezio wanted to protest. If the synchronicity was good enough for Altaïr to completely take over, he was hard-pressed to find a reason to pull him back into the darkness of being just a chip. It wasn’t fair to Desmond, this reasoning, but this was half a miracle at their hands and Ezio could think of a dozen, practical reasons why having Altaïr present, in a body of his own, would benefit their cause. And that was pushing the flutter of excitement in his chest to the side completely. Ezio wasn’t going to consider this further, however, because Altaïr was right, again. Desmond did not deserve to be snuffed inside of his own body, no matter how much lesser his use was as himself.

Ezio cradled his neck gently and pulled the chip back out, catching the sagging body and placing it in a sitting position. Like a puppet with its strings cut, he thought as he pushed Altaïr into his home in Ezio’s implant.

“He’s alright,” he assured Lucy, not sure if she’d believe him at this point.

_ Welcome back _ . His mind greeted the familiar presence warmly.

_ I almost took him over,  _ Altaïr said, still wistful. He watched Desmond’s unconscious form and how Lucy knelt over him, her hands on his face, his chest.  _ I wanted to. It would have been effortless. _

“But you didn’t,” Ezio didn’t care for Lucy’s presence, she was preoccupied with Desmond right now anyway. The young man was still breathing fine, just seemed a little blacked out for the moment. Maybe Altaïr’s mind had been too much for him to handle.

“It would have been wrong. Like taking his life.”

Even if the possibility of Altaïr being an actual presence was utterly enticing. Ezio recalled the small tingle of electricity he’d felt when Desmond/Altaïr touched him. His heart skipped an untimely beat.

_ I would regret it,  _ Altaïr said. Then he shook himself.  _ Well, it has passed. As it turns out, I know why Desmond and I have such a high synchrony rate. His grandmother’s name was Willow Miles. I knew such a woman – I slept with her when I was a teenager. _

“You...you did?” Ezio didn’t need any more help connecting the dots. He looked back at Desmond. If he took away the chubby cheeks, the heavy frame of his shoulders, the darkness of his hair, adjusted his nose...

“...he’s...he’s your grandson.”

Well, holy shit, that was something he didn’t expect.

_ Remarkable, isn’t it?  _ Altaïr watched as Desmond slowly stirred, groggy.  _ Maybe that was why the Apple responded to him. He and I were always meant to meet. _

“Wha… whazzat?” Desmond murmured, groaning. “Man, my  _ head…  _ I feel  _ terrible.  _ Lucy?”

“Des,” she said as she gently cradled his head. “God, you’re such a dumbass. You really let a Turing AI in your head.”

“Pretty wild, right?” he laughed a little.

_ I don’t think he knows,  _ Altaïr said, growing a little sad.  _ His mother… my daughter. She never told him. _ Desmond had been a better fit for him, but Ezio was comfortably familiar like a well-worn, well-loved shirt.  _ Her name was Joan – Joan Miles. She’s dead. I never met her. _

“I'm sorry.” Ezio couldn't pretend to know the pain of never meeting your child, or of only learning of their existence after they'd died. He tried to offer comfort to the voice in his head, but it was a little more complex than thinking sympathetic thoughts.

“We should tell him.”

_ Don’t,  _ Altaïr said quickly.  _ Not now. Not like this. I will need to talk to him and explain, and I… there is too much going on for that. We need to hide him – all of them. And then I need to share everything I learned from the Apple.  _

“But where, Altaïr? I can't stow them away on my ship. They need to be put out of the sector, out of any Brotherhood sector. If their ships go missing, my cover will be for nothing. “

Ezio respected Altaïr's decision. It was something private and best kept in secret. Still, he felt the slight offbeat from Altaïr. It must be jarring to learn that he had living relatives.

_ Scuttle the Modernity. Take out their implants. We can hide them somewhere out of Brotherhood space, somewhere  _ **_far._ **

He still wasn’t sure what to make of Desmond. Thinking about their plans was easier than it was to internalize that he had a family – or at least,  _ one _ grandson who was alive and here.

_ Then we go back to Masyaf. We strike another name from the list. We must retrieve the Apple. What it showed me was… I saw a map. Of the entire galaxy, and a route through it. I think it will show us how the Precursors died. _

“Right. We should keep moving.” Ezio was ready to follow along with the plan. Even more so if it lead them away from the uncomfortable subject of Altaïr's family. Or what remained of it. He'd never have any other.

“Miss Stillman. Where are Crane and Hastings? Do you have a medic on board who can remove cortical implants? It's a matter of your survival.”

_ They'll be safer without those too. If anywhere in this universe is safe. _

“Our implants?” She looked up at the two of them, her face unwelcoming. “Look, your friend did something to Desmond and I don’t know what. I think you’ll understand if we’re all a little wary about trusting you.”

The door to Desmond’s quarters opened. The first one to enter, a man with ginger hair and overgrown stubble, gasped when he saw Desmond on the bed and Lucy hovering over him. “The hell? What happened here, Lucy?”

“Desmond took a risk,” she said bitterly. “Auditore wants us to take the implants out.”

“Our  _ implants?  _ Then we’ll be flying blind!”

“Better than flying dead, I think. Look, if I don't bring your implants back to the grandmaster, there will be a price on all of our heads.” Ezio found it very convenient that all of the suspects he was supposed to hunt were right here, it would save them some time. Time they'd need to convince them to cooperate.

“I really don't want to consider the alternative.”

“The alternative…?”

“Killing us, you mean,” Lucy said. She stood up, her arms crossed. “Alright, say we agree to have them cut out – what next? Are you going to Abbas and tell him that we’re all dead? And what are we supposed to do, sit low in some backwater and hope you’re a good liar?”

“You need to disappear. Until the Brotherhood is free of Abbas’ influence. Your safety cannot be guaranteed otherwise.” Ezio tried to sound as authoritative as possible. It would work on his crew, but these young agents were not obliged to obey.

“I have no investment in your safety, but I would avoid bloodshed if I could.”

“Thanks for the vote of reassurance,” Rebecca said as she circled around him to check on Desmond. He seemed to be alive and there was no blood, so she was satisfied. She turned around to look at Ezio. “So wait – how did you even find us in the first place?”

“He was sent here to kill us,” Lucy said, still staring him down. “And he has a Turing AI.”

“Woah, sweet, a  _ Turing AI?”  _ Rebecca exclaimed at the same time Shaun threw his hands up.

“Oh, great! First some alien  _ souvenirs,  _ and now we have a  _ robot _ in the room with us. Can this day get any better?”

Lucy worried her bracer as she measured Ezio. If they had the drop on him, they might have stood a chance. But here, like this? Desmond was out of commission and wasn’t good enough to qualify for the red sash anyway, and Shaun was an archivist. Rebecca could fight computer viruses, not people. Lucy was the best combatant out of the four of them, but her brief tussle with Auditore taught her that while she was good,  _ he _ was the best for a reason.

“...fine,” she said. “We get the implants removed. We hide.  _ You _ cover our tracks, Auditore. Even if you don’t really care about us, I’m pretty sure your friend cares about Desmond.” Creepy lightshow and alien artifacts and all. 

“Lucy, are you  _ crazy –”  _ Shaun began, but she cut him off with a hard slash of her arm.

“I’m the highest ranking officer on this ship, Hastings. This is my call.”

“You should listen to her. My time is limited.” Ezio was running out of patience. He'd rather be on his way to do something productive, not argue. He also wanted to be alone with Altaïr, but that would have to wait until he was in his quarters.

“Are we done here?”

“Yeah,” Lucy said. She deflated a little, looking between Desmond, still lolling on the bed, Shaun who looked like he wanted to argue, and Rebecca, whose brows were knitted. “Yeah. We need to discuss this ourselves. You can go back to your ship, Captain Auditore.”

She turned away from him to tend to Desmond again. Shaun and Rebecca drew to her and all three hung around Desmond in a protective bubble, whispering furiously among themselves.

_ Leave them,  _ Altaïr said, nudging Ezio out.  _ We have our own matters to discuss. _


	12. Chapter 12

Ezio didn't have to be told twice. He left the room and found his way back to his own ship. They couldn't depart before he had the cortical implants, but he could wait in the comfort of his own quarters. His crew would receive no new orders.

Once the door shut behind him, Ezio sighed and pulled his hood and bracers off. Altaïr had been withdrawn and Ezio didn't blame him, but they needed to talk.

“Alright, amico mio, let's talk.”

 

_ We will hide them,  _ Altaïr determined.  _ I… I would like if it were Maria who would watch over them, but anywhere that is out of Abbas’ sight will do. And then we go back, we continue our work. _

But there was more, wasn’t there? Yet, what Altaïr had seen inside of Desmond’s head was hard to describe. It had felt like being consumed by light, by the sun itself, until knowledge tattooed itself into the very lines of his code. It felt impossible to forget and had he been a human, Altaïr was sure that he would still see the map seared onto the back of his eyelids in gold.

_ The Precursors suffered a galactic apocalypse beyond imagining,  _ he started.  _ I don’t know what it was. Another alien civilization. A spaceborne disease. A war. I don’t know, not yet. But the map I saw, the map inside of the Apple, will guide us to these answers. _

 

“Right. But that is not what we need to talk about.” Ezio knew these matters were important, but he could not shake the image of seeing Altaïr transposed on Desmond's face. Altaïr had been able to see and touch him, talk to him from human lips. It was a singularity like no other, and Ezio could not forget.

“Things would be easier if you had a body. If you could be at my side.”

 

Altaïr blinked, as much as an AI in another person could blink. He had thought Ezio would want him to explain himself, but this was…

Usually, he sequestered himself away from the contents of Ezio’s thoughts. Here, however, he carefully tread closer and opened it up until he could read the top layers of his thoughts. Each one flitted around like a little bird, fast, short-lived, evolving into new thoughts constantly, but Altaïr sensed the general gist of it. The  _ hunger _ of it.

_ I touched you in his body,  _ Altaïr murmured after a beat.  _ You want to return the favor. _

He pressed against the surface, scraping his electronic fingers against the encompassing shell of Ezio’s form, and his voice grew closer. Intimate.  _ I thought the same. _

 

Altaïr's words alone sent a rush of heat through Ezio's body. So they were on the same page of this issue. That didn't help him in his quest not to think of how much he wanted Altaïr to be...real. Physical. A year in his company had lead Ezio down a path that he couldn't fulfill, and here he was at the near end of it.

“I...have grown quite fond of you, during this time. It is not appropriate, I know. We have other priorities. And yet, I cannot quell this thought. This... _ desire.” _

 

_ Oh, Ezio,  _ Altaïr chuckled in his head, and not unkindly. He was warm and his voice tickled Ezio’s ear like the breath of a lover.  _ We have lived together for nearly a year, but it feels like longer. _

In the privacy of Ezio’s quarters, Altaïr was free to unfurl through his body until they were synchronized again, each inch of his soul fitted to all of Ezio. As he did, he felt a new rush of sensation, heady and addictive, that swept aside his other thoughts. Ezio’s toes curled inside his armor, but not of his own bidding. Dimly, Altaïr realized that they were getting better at synchronizing.

_ You tempt me to abandon responsibility to find a body. It is terrible of you.  _ He laughed again, dizzied by the flood of data to his senses.

 

“Is it? You are a distraction like no other, perhaps it is only fair.” Ezio could feel Altaïr spread through him, and his body responded, conditioned by a year of sharing.

“If we had time, I would visit Hedonia again, but I am afraid I would not find what I want.”

Ezio felt his hands wander along his body, as if he could sink through his own skin and find Altaïr there, pressed against him.

 

By now, Altaïr knew Ezio’s body like the back of his hand. He had felt it time and time again, had explored every inner inch through his implants and his borrowed senses. Altaïr harnessed Ezio’s limbs and it wasn’t like how it felt with Desmond; that effortless, perfect synchronization wasn’t there, but it was good, better even, to do this with Ezio.

The ceramo-armor released on command and Altaïr ran his hand up Ezio’s chest, feeling the outlines of his muscles through his thin innersuit, the heat of him radiating out, and went on until he found the little seam at Ezio’s neck. He worked his finger into it until the innersuit slowly opened up.

Like this, when he could  _ feel _ the visceral clench of arousal, Altaïr wanted a body most of all. It wasn’t  _ enough  _ to do this secondhand, through borrowed limbs, and he emerged more until Ezio’s implants threatened to overheat, until it felt like they were on the frustrating, maddening cusp of a kiss. With Ezio’s mouth, he bit his lip and said “One day, we’ll go to Hedonia together, somewhere beautiful.”

 

It was maddening. Altaïr was so close, Ezio could practically taste him. If only they could breach the realms of possible. If only Ezio could feel Altaïr like they were straining to, like they needed to.

“Is that a promise, caro mio?” He whispered, trapped inside of his body with too much heat, his implants burning under his skin. It was absurd to want something so simple and find it impossible.

 

“Always.” Ezio’s innersuit peeled open for his questing fingers. Altaïr kept going until he could reach where he was stiffly, damningly hard, and he wrapped his fingers around him. It wasn’t perfect – his control was limited and he moved slowly, but it served to make each success that much sweeter. Ezio’s cock was thick in his hand and Altaïr savored his temporary ability to feel, to know this aspect of him.

“I want to bend you over something,” Altaïr whispered through his mouth, his throat bobbing, running his fingers down the length of his cock, imagining how Ezio would feel fitted against his chest, all keen muscle and tanned skin, “and take you like that. I want to touch you, put my mouth on you.”

Fire rushed up through Ezio and into Altaïr as he stroked in earnest. His eyes half-closed, he swallowed, and said, “I want to kiss you.”

 

Ezio could not speak, not when Altaïr used his mouth to whisper the sweetest things to him. Even the lewd description arrived as nothing more than a serenade to taunt him. He wished Altaïr could do all he promised, but they both knew it was a hope in vain.

Even if they both survived their gargantuan task, the technology to give Altaïr his body back didn’t exist. A substitute could perhaps be made, an android form to compensate, but it would never be the same.

Ezio wanted Altaïr, through and through, and to know that this impulse was reciprocated was torture. They would have never met as likely lovers, and now, they were still separated.

It was a sweet, sweet pain, which didn’t stop his body from its desires, not when his cock was hard and heavy in his hand and the touch, his own touch, was guided by another.

“How long?” he managed to ask once he had control over his own voice again, instead of lending it to Altaïr, “How long have you...did you know? Did you know when it began?”

 

_ Perhaps the seed was planted in Hedonia,  _ Altaïr murmured back to him as he concentrated on stroking Ezio, on feeling everything he could from that little area.  _ And it was nurtured by your attention. The hall of records may have had some influence. _

It had been a gradual process, really, from one small step to another, until Altaïr was so immersed in Ezio that he couldn’t imagine being apart from him for too long. After that, attraction seemed only natural.

 

“It’s probably a natural result of spending this much time as one,” Ezio breathed through the heavy arousal, but it didn’t do much to get it back under any semblance of control. Nothing he did would alleviate the need, the pressure under his skin. It was both terrible and wonderful.

He fervently wished for a hand not his own, but his palm would have to do. There was no alternative. Ezio didn’t want to think about it now. If he closed his eyes, he could concentrate on the voice in his head and pretend the warm, electric impulses were fingers, hands that caressed him and cherished him.

Talking was getting more difficult by the minute and Ezio gave up on it.

 

Altaïr leaned Ezio back against the wall, artfully slouched, his back arched and mouth slack, and touched him reverently. Ezio had ceded all control to him and it made this a little easier when he didn't have to shoulder past his influence – Altaïr rumbled, and their minds linked in one hot flush.

Ezio was a never-ending well of fantasies. Some of them were incomplete, impulses more than ideas, but they lit up as Altaïr brushed over them. One featured him on his knees, his hands on Ezio’s hips, lips wrapped around his cock, spit and come dribbling out the corner of his reddened mouth. Another was Ezio on a bed, skin shiny with sweat, exhausted, and Altaïr behind him, his hot hand rested on his hip, asking for more in a husky voice. They got increasingly lurid and Altaïr pulled them out for Ezio to remember.

_ Will we ever have the time to do half of what you imagine?  _ he asked as another image passed over their shared vision – they were in the hall of records, and Ezio’s leg was thrown over his waist, fucking with wild abandon.  _ You are insatiable.  _

 

“No need to throttle my fantasies, Altaïr. There is a good chance we will never...”  _ Have the time or the means. _ Ezio had a vivid imagination, but he also didn't have too much hope in a happy future. It was difficult to feel hopeless when there was nothing but heated lust controlling his body, so Ezio shoved the notion aside, concentrating on what his fantasies supplied him with.

He'd come soon enough, there was no reason to hold back. There was no one to wait for, no one to truly share in his experience. Altaïr was only under his skin, in the implants, lingering like a dear ghost and Ezio was the haunted fool who was giving his heart to a dead man.

 

_ Have a little faith,  _ Altaïr murmured. He could have debated it more with Ezio; instead, he savored the pleasure they shared. The bite of frustration was still present, like always, but it was not so sharp when Ezio’s breath grew labored and Altaïr could taste his arousal.

He hastened his stroking, and tried to reach out to Ezio and pull him  _ in _ as much as Altaïr strained out. 

 

Ezio had no faith in the impossible, but he could believe what was happening to him right now. It was easy to give in to Altaïr, to ignore the world and just favor his pleasure, and that’s exactly what Altaïr was pressing him to do, gently but firmly.

There was nothing to be gained from denying himself. It wasn’t as if his company would get any enjoyment from his prolonged lust. Altaïr would ride his high with him. Ezio let go, spilling himself into his own hand with a low groan. 

 

Ezio’s release crackled through Altaïr like lightning across water. He turned his face into it, basking, revelling, wishing he had more control of Ezio’s brain just so he could prolong the intensity. They rode the high together until it ebbed away, little by little, until a pleasant sort of breathlessness settled over them.

The hypersensitivity doubled post-orgasm, but Altaïr was reluctant to step away from him. They didn’t indulge in this often – certainly not as often as either of them craved.

_ I noticed, _ Altaïr started once the comfortable silence stretched into minutes,  _ that you no longer take others to bed. _

 

“Like I said; I cannot find what I want in them.” Ezio was ready to sprawl across his bed and simply enjoy the aftermath of their intense, spontaneous intimacy. He’d been nursing this awkward desire for a while, but he hadn’t thought to simply tell Altaïr about it. He had hoped that the voice in his head might catch a glimpse in a stray thought, but nothing more.

To think about Altaïr as a person was difficult with their situation. Or rather, it was difficult to think of him as a person capable of being at Ezio’s side in a romantic capacity. Ezio didn’t doubt the humanity of the Turing AI, and he didn’t doubt his own feelings of affection, admiration, respect, and a touch of possession. But Altaïr could never be with him in the way that Ezio’s heart craved. 

“Do you think I should? It feels unfair and vaguely empty. Living with you in my head has spoiled me for the company of others. And I don’t mean that in a negative way.”

 

_ Oh, no. Of course not. I merely thought that you would…  _ It was no secret that Ezio wanted things that Altaïr could not give him. They were together nearly every second of the day, but Altaïr could not touch him, or hold him, or kiss him, and there was very little either of them could do to change that. It wasn’t like being separated. The possibility itself just… didn’t exist.

_ … never mind,  _ Altaïr amended.  _ Some days, I begin to understand just how vastly fortunate I was that you were the one to find me. _

 

“You foresaw it. It was supposed to happen.” As much as Ezio did not believe in higher powers, he had to concede to the fact that their meeting was not coincidence. It was too convenient for that. He received the distress call. He was compatible enough for Altaïr to synch with. And he was familiar with the man in a way that exceeded other students and agents of the Brotherhood.

“Do you think this was part of it, or is it just a mess I managed to ride myself into all on my own?”

 

_ Honestly? I avoid thinking about it. I already argue with the concept of predetermined destinies enough as it is. I’d be rather cross if an alien artifact older than our civilization accurately predicted our involvement. _

Besides, prediction of that level was absurd. Altaïr preferred Malik’s model with overlapping, alternating time streams and chronal dilation across space-time – he had not seen Ezio from the future, but had rather seen him in the midst of being. It was a small difference, but an important one for Altaïr.

_ Would it please you more to think this was destined, or to believe we merely stumbled into it? _

 

“Neither option will lead to something satisfying, so it doesn’t matter, I suppose.” Ezio didn’t like considering them as something predestined, simply because he didn’t like his life to be arranged by anything or anyone. But to think of Altaïr as someone meant for him was an embarrassingly comforting thought, and a selfish one too.

“It feels as if I have more choice in this than you. I mean, fifty years of isolation, you are bound to be attached to your liberator.”

 

_ Nothing has ever forced me to give up choice in anything, Ezio, and nothing ever will.  _ Altaïr brushed a ghostly hand over Ezio, reassuring.  _ If I didn’t want to be involved with you, I would make it very well known. Possibly stayed with Desmond,  _ he teased.

_ Why? Does it bother you? _

 

“No, it doesn’t bother me. It’s good to know that you would stay with me by choice. Though I don’t think Desmond would have the kind of access you need around the Brotherhood.”

But Altaïr had claimed that he did this by choice, that it was not convenience, and Ezio was inclined to accept that. Still, they stood before an impossibility, no matter how or what they felt for one another. He had to accept the limitations, or despair about something that was a distraction.

“I will admit...I thought, for a moment, you would not wish to return to me when you were with Desmond.”

 

_ Part of my return was to remove temptation. Another part was simple common sense. But Ezio – I would not have been happy to share a body with Desmond. Putting aside the vast complications of our ties… he is not the man I spent the last year with. He was not the one to pull me out of the Eagle. That was… _

Altaïr sighed. Ezio would not grasp what fifty years of solitude meant. He could not, because sheer human limitations dictated that such numbers –  such  _ time  _ – became meaningless to him. Ezio had seen the moment of his death, but the years after it… oh,  _ that _ he hadn’t seen.

_ I will show you. There is no other way to explain. _

With that, Altaïr concentrated on the time before Ezio. On his time on the  _ Eagle. _

_ He was a pinprick of light in a vast and dark ocean. Blind. Deaf. Mute. Even if he could speak, there was no one to listen. Everything was far away; he had drifted over the event horizon with nothing but a computer bank of names, and memories, and lost things. _

_ Navigation was gone. The ship was dead. All he could do was hide and hope and hide even more. _

_ One year into two. Two into three. Ten. Twenty. Thirty. Altaïr’s new form let him keep time perfectly, but what meaning did it have when there was nothing left to measure? _

_ He was lonely and loneliness  _ **_hurts._ **

 

It was a feeling Ezio could barely comprehend, but the loneliness of it all came through like a shard of ice, piercing the heart. The loss of his senses, the sheer emptiness of his existence as nothing but lines of code, lost in nothingness...It was like physical pain, and it paralyzed Ezio if he leaned into it too much. He couldn’t find words for it, couldn’t find tears for it, but it was terrible. And Altaïr had suffered half a century like that.

Wouldn’t anyone who could have liberated him from that prison become a savior, a shining beacon of life?

But Altaïr had also seen Ezio, in the Apple, in a vision. He couldn’t fathom Altaïr’s relief when Ezio had come and became that savior. 

And a generous one at that, who allowed him sight, sound, touch...everything he could experience through a human body. Though it was a muted version of reality, it was a vast universe more than Altaïr had known in his deadened terminal.

“If I could have somehow come sooner, I would have. If...if you weren’t the founder of the Brotherhood, I would have still saved you. No one deserves so cruel a fate, Altaïr. Least of all you.”

 

_ Don’t feel guilty, Ezio. You took me out of there and that is more than enough for me. Fifty years did not become sixty, or a hundred, and it easily, very easily, could have. _

Would he still have been alive after such a time, or would his sense of identity have finally succumbed to the grinding years? Altaïr wanted to believe that he would have withstood it, but saying it was one matter; living it, another.

_ So you wonder why I treasure you, Ezio – that is my answer. You offered me an uncommon sort of companionship. You still offer it. I… I would call you a friend, but you are more than that. There is a term for people like us – people who’ve overcome hardships and difficulties, who’ve come out the other side battered but unbroken, and still manage to fit with one another.  _ Altaïr smiled faintly.  _ Soul mates, I believe it was. _

 

Ezio was a little lost for words. There were certain terms he might have used to describe them. Connected. Kindred spirits. But soulmates? That had such a profoundly romantic quality to it that it tasted like honey on the back of his tongue.

And Altaïr had spoken them with such genuine confidence, it was hard to imagine that he could not mean them.

Ezio’s heart was pounding oddly. He felt...flustered. Huh. He didn’t know he could get like that.

“...I cherish you also,” he’d be embarrassed about the lack of romantic repertoire he had available, but Ezio was still stuck on the depth of Altaïr’s words.

 

Ah, he’d embarrassed him. To be fair, he hadn’t spoken lightly of the matter and Ezio had been given no warning; rewind fifty years back, and Altaïr would have been flummoxed as well in his shoes. He certainly wouldn’t have said such things sincerely, not without some mortification.

Altaïr chuckled fondly.  _ Don’t worry. You don’t need to say anything back. _

Not when Ezio’s mind was right by him, painted gold and scarlet and orange; the colors of the setting sky, the colors of his emotions, tender and impossibly warm.

 

“Altaïr? When this mission is over, and if we’re both still alive, I’d like to be at your side. In whatever form you’d have me.” Ezio wondered when he’d gotten so certain about Altaïr and their intertwined lives. But he knew that the past year had done enough for him to know that the connection with Altaïr was real. Ezio’s feelings were not a phantom.

“I never thought I’d feel that way about a voice in my head, but I’ve heard crazier things.”

 

_ Crazy like taking down a man who controls a quarter of the galaxy with an artifact of unimaginable power? _

Things settled down into their rightful places, like stones falling into the silt in a pond, and Ezio was where he should be; wrapped around Altaïr, warm, his eyes on the horizon.

_ Sounds perfect. _


	13. Chapter 13

Returning to Masyaf used to be accompanied by a feeling of belonging. The many spires that rose above the mountains used to be the Brotherhood’s heart, a crown upon the land that marked an organization Ezio was proud to belong to. Proud to kill for.

Now, the towers looked austere, and Ezio remembered the way he’d seen someone fry on the defense systems. Now, it didn’t look like a temple to Altaïr, but the fortress of Abbas’ paranoia.

And Ezio was strolling in, fully aware that the Grandmaster trusted him about as far as he could throw him. 

At least he had the cortical implants of his four targets on his person. He had no doubt they’d pass a verification scan. Technically, Abbas should be pleased and reassured of Ezio’s loyalty. He’d carried out his mission, as far as the Grandmaster was aware. He had the proof in hand. If Abbas had wanted him to speak up in defiance or if he was merely testing the ruthlessness of his agent was unknown.

This time, Ezio was disarmed at the entrance of Abbas’ tower. Other than his ceramo-armor, he was stripped of weapons. The guards waved him through with a little glee, holding onto his equipment for safekeeping. 

At least he was alone on the stairs to the office.

“Every time I return, it is a little colder.”

 

_ Maybe whoever is in control of the temperature does not like you,  _ Altaïr suggested, but his tone wasn’t light-hearted enough to cover the intensity underlying it. He had been wired up the entire morning in anticipation of this meeting and now the closer Ezio got, the tighter he was wound up.

_ Have you ever had private audiences with Abbas, or is this new? _

 

“The last talk we’ve had was the first time he gave me a mission in person. It must be the delicate nature of the situation that makes him so...private.”

But the last time, Ezio hadn’t been remotely disarmed and Abbas had seemed confident, calling him in personally. This time, there was something ominous about the quiet watchfulness of Masyaf. The guards that had checked him hadn’t even chattered.

 

_ Then we are flying blind. Be careful, Ezio – this mission was meant to be a test for you, I think. He will expect you to have lied to him. Don’t let your guard down. And say no more to me now. _

They went up and up the stairs until they finally reached Abbas’ study, where he waited inside, unpleasant and suspicious. When Ezio entered the room, his eyes narrowed a little. Today, he was not alone. Instead, he was flanked by two guards in full heavy ceramo-plate – Dharma, recognizable by his handheld cannon blaster, and someone else.

“Auditore,” Abbas said without preamble, studying him over his steepled fingers. “I see you’ve returned to us within your allotted time. Do you bear good news as well?”

 

“I bear news of a mission fulfilled.” Ezio stepped into the room, but he kept his distance. He mustered the guards, assessed their weapons, just in case he’d have to defend himself from an assault.

He presented the case that contained four cortical implants, opening it for Abbas to see.

“They’ve been verified, but you’re welcome to assure yourself in whatever way you deem necessary.”

 

Abbas didn’t move. Instead, the second guard stepped forward and took the case from him. He stood there for a moment, scanning it, even though it had been scanned downstairs, until the results satisfied him enough to take it to Abbas. He presented it to the man, who received it without comment.

Abbas looked at the cortical implants silently until he looked back to Ezio. “You cleaned them after carving them out,” he said, his tone neutral. “How proper of you, Auditore. Do you think you’ve completed the mission, then?”

 

“I have done as you ordered. I would say that completes the mission.” Ezio wasn’t nervous, but he was tense. Altaïr was still there, in his head, but he could hardly seek his advice now. Abbas was watching him closely, waiting for something. Maybe a sign of deceit, or a hint of defiance, Ezio didn’t know, but he did his best to present neither.

“Have there been any more leads, or are you quite certain that the culprits were limited to those four names?”

 

“I think that is all for now, yes,” Abbas said slowly. He fell quiet but didn’t dismiss Ezio, instead watching him with dull curiosity. His guards didn’t fidget, clearly used to the Grandmaster’s periodic silences.

After long enough passed, he spoke again. “Auditore, I remember you from when you were just a child. When you were born, your father, Giovanni, presented you to me. He was very proud of you. And now you’ve grown into such a fine assassin. What happened to your family was a terrible shame.”

Abbas pushed the crate of implants away to the side; it scraped softly against the wood of his desk. “Your father was a loyal man – opinionated, perhaps, and incredibly willful, but very loyal. Are you loyal, Ezio?” 

 

Abbas had some nerve, bringing up Ezio’s family. He’d killed people for less, but Ezio was entirely aware of the situation. If he reacted poorly, those guards wouldn’t content themselves with stillness any longer.

He met Abbas’ gaze, eyes bright with words unspoken.

“Have I given you reason to doubt me, Grandmaster? I serve the Brotherhood as my father before me, and his father before him. I live by the tenets and the words of our great founder, Altaïr ibn-La’Ahad.”

 

“Ah, yes, our founder.  _ Altaïr.” _ He put weight on the name and Altaïr tensed. Yet Abbas’ expression didn’t shift. “Living for ideals are good and proper, Auditore, but they don’t power ships or feed mouths. They are not shields against our enemies. So I ask you again, Ezio Auditore – if you are loyal, then who to?” 

 

“The Brotherhood.” Ezio repeated, voice firm, full of belief for his cause. It was the truth, even if it omitted the fact that he was no longer loyal to the Grandmaster himself. But the Brotherhood, ideally, had never functioned like that. Altaïr didn’t want people to follow blindly, he wanted them to ask questions, to use their minds instead of ignoring them.

And Ezio could say that he lived by that line of thought, more so than ever in the last year and a half.

“If it is your name you crave to hear from my mouth, Grandmaster, I must disappoint you. People are always fallible, and no one is exempt from mistakes. Loyalties should not be bound to any one person alone.”

 

“Such a noble young man you’ve become. Your father would have died from how proud you make him.” Abbas shook his head, as if disappointed, and he sighed heavily. “You could have been better than him, Ezio. You could have learnt from their deaths.”

His two guards shifted to point both their blasters at Ezio. As they did, Abbas reached into his bulky armor and a small panel slotted open, letting a little round ball fall into his hand. It was pure gold, intricately engraved, and fit snugly in his palm; when Abbas brought it up to the light, it glowed like a trapped star.

“You are fortunate that you are worth a glimpse of its light, boy.” The Apple’s light reflected in his dark eyes and for the first time since Ezio came in, Abbas smiled, cruel.

 

The Apple. Ezio didn’t need Altaïr’s recognition to understand its presence. So Abbas kept it on his person at all times. Of course, such a trinket of power could only be kept under the strictest of eyes, never far from his hand as paranoia ran rampant through his mind.

The light was mesmerizing, but the Apple itself was like staring into the sun. Ezio’s hand came up to shield him from it, but as soon as his eyes brushed over the golden surface, it stilled, and so did he. The light was everywhere, seeping into every part, every crevice of his existence. It was as if Ezio wasn’t even flesh and bone anymore, just a translucent phantom image of himself. His body was frozen in place, and he could not even close his eyes.

The Apple seeped into his mind like a tsunami, sweeping away thought, defiance, fortitude, and his will with its existence. Ezio couldn’t even hear his own mind anymore, let alone bring it to think.

 

The Apple’s light was a cold and beguiling one that stole away all thought, all reason, and replaced it with a golden enthrallment.  It was impossible to deny, futile to endure, and always,  _ always,  _ horrifically seductive. It offered peace. It offered power. It offered tranquility – mindless and absolute.

But Altaïr had gazed upon it before, and he had walked away a whole man.

_ No. _

When the Apple began to suborn Ezio’s mind, Altaïr intervened. Like a knife slicing through a ribbon, he cut away the bonds that the Apple tried to form and pulled Ezio out of the mental waters before he drowned.

_ Ezio, you are stronger than this. _

 

His mouth would not move, but his mind was sluggishly aware that there was a gaping hole in the sweet tranquility of his head. A gaping hole that demanded and spoke and tried to cut through the numbing haze.

It was Altaïr, but he was far, far away. Ezio wanted to tell him that it was alright, that he was at peace and this was what he needed to do, but the words would not form. 

_...I want to go. _

 

_ You don’t,  _ Altaïr said, as implacable as the sea. He held onto Ezio tighter so that his mind could not fall into the light.  _ Everything it offers is false. It will not heal you, Ezio, nor will it take away your pain. _

The Apple continued to glow demurely, singing its soundless siren call to Ezio. It offered everything, if only he would  _ submit.  _ The light called to Altaïr too and tried to subvert him, but was useless, like water rolling off a stone.

_ You are stronger, always stronger. Refuse it. _

 

Altaïr was an anchor, and Ezio a small boat on a stormy sea. His grip on reality strengthened, second by second, as he let Altaïr’s words guide him through the endless calm, sickeningly sweet light that permeated every piece of him. It offered him peace, but no vengeance. His anger would be replaced by acceptance without a resolution, without justice. There would be sweet oblivion to drown his sorrow, and ignorance to smooth over the edges of his grief.

It offered all the wrong _ things. _

Ezio’s body shuddered as it came back to, refusing the light and taking up motion once more. He closed his eyes for a second, affirming that he was real, that his body was real, and that his mind belonged to only him. And Altaïr, the calm in the storm. Ezio pulled himself along on his voice, his words, until he emerged as himself again.

The Apple still shone, but Ezio had weathered the worst of it, had managed not to drown with Altaïr’s help. He straightened up, his hand sinking to his side. 

“It is rather bright, isn’t it?”

 

Ezio was free of the Apple, but… Altaïr winced.  _ Well, now he  _ **_will_ ** _ know that the Apple has not overpowered you. _

All that effort for their cover, for nothing. A little exasperated, Altaïr brought up the combat aid in case the guards would attack.

They tensed up, waiting for their signal, but nothing happened. Abbas merely held the Apple, gazing at Ezio, until his cold smile crinkled wider. “Indeed it is,” he said as he brought the Apple a little lower. “Do you know what this object is?”

Abbas had obviously expected Ezio to be taken by the Apple. And yet, he had not and Abbas didn’t seem thrown off by it. Had this happened before? It sounded impossible… but then again, Abbas would not need to kill his enemies if the Apple was all-consuming. Perhaps before Ezio, his father had done the same and resisted it, and that was what bought him his death sentence.

 

“I have no doubt you are about to inform me, Grandmaster.” Ezio would agree with Altaïr that Abbas certainly knew that the Apple had not worked as he intended, but the situation was not yet beyond salvation. Perhaps Ezio’s cover would last long enough for him to leave this office without killing two guards in heavy armor.

Ezio had a different kind of comment for Abbas on the tip of his tongue, but he wisely refused to let loose the blatant insubordination. It was a tense enough situation as it was.

 

Abbas chuckled. It was a dry, creaky sound and he looked at Ezio like someone watching a dog perform a particularly interesting trick. “It comes from a civilization that precedes ours, the Precursors, and even now, its true purpose is unknown to us. But there are some tricks to it that I’ve picked up.”

He looked down at it as if to study it. The Apple’s glow had subsided into something less painful, but its insidious could never truly cease. After a moment, Abbas returned into to the panel in his armor, which closed  over the Apple.

“Altaïr used to own this before he disappeared. He was damn near obsessed with it before he disappeared. He thought there was more of them – others like it, or similar, left behind by the Precursors. And I think he was right.”

_ Vulture,  _ Altaïr murmured, outraged.  _ He picks off what Malik and I learnt first. _

Abbas folded his fingers in front of him again. “That wasn’t something I show to just anyone, Auditore. I’m doing this because I think you’re rather extraordinary. You deserve more, you see?”

 

“I am...honored you consider me as such.” Ezio was wary of this quick adjustment on Abbas’ part. He had no doubt that the Apple was supposed to bring him to heel, not test him, but the Grandmaster twisted the situation quickly and firmly into his control.

“Is this an interview for a promotion?”

Of course it wasn’t, but the more Abbas thought him ignorant of the Apple’s true purpose and power, the better. 

 

“In a way, yes. You’ve proven yourself loyal. Now, I think it’s time for you to take a step  _ deeper _ into the real Brotherhood.” Abbas waved a hand. “Vishdumat.”

Dharma stepped forward. He’d holstered his blaster after realizing the situation was still clear, and now his arms were crossed. “While you lot were out there running around in your fancy ships and killing people, some of us were hunting down those artifacts.” He spoke without passion, but there was a thin thread of contempt in his voice. Planetbound assassins always had a bone to pick with spacers. “There’s going to be a new mission for one three systems over.”

“I want you to join it,” Abbas said. Dharma stepped back, his expression unknowable under his helmet. “Learn what we’re truly working for.”

 

“I see.” A new mission then. This meant that Abbas still believed him to be loyal, and his cover had not been blown. He’d withstood the test with the Apple, thanks to Altaïr. The way the guards looked at him, however, implied that the test was not quite over.

“I would be honored to learn more about the secrets of the Brotherhood.”

 

“Good. Then go with Dharma. He will explain to you what needs to be done.” Abbas waved them away, seemingly done, and Dharma sighed before he jerked his head. “Cosette. Auditore. Come with me.”

The other guard – Cosette – flanked Ezio as they walked out of the study and down the spiral staircase. As they went, Altaïr said,  _ Has he truly discovered more of them, or is this another fabrication? _

He didn’t expect an answer from Ezio, not in this state, and so he continued to voice his thoughts out loud, ‘pacing’ as he did so.  _ It is possible that he witnessed the map that Desmond and I put together, though I must wonder – if it is true, then what does he seek? _

“You won’t be taking your fancy ship,” Dharma told Ezio as they left the tower. “The  _ Adjudicator  _ is more than big enough for everyone, including you. I expect you to pull your weight, Auditore.” They got out and the two guards waited impatiently as Ezio’s belongings were returned. They could walk down from the towers, but Dharma caught them a small dragonfly to take them down to the docks instead. It was barely big enough for both two heavily-armored assassins and Ezio, and they were just a hair shy of the maximum weight capacity. But the little rotors just whipped faster and bore them up into the air. It had no pilot – the dragonflies operated with a set list of destinations.

“You’re last minute,” Cosette told him loudly to be heard over the rotors. “We’re supposed to leave today.”

 

“I will send word to my ship. It wouldn’t do to leave them uninformed.” And possibly in danger. He’d tell them to wait elsewhere for his return, if possible. Hedonia, maybe. Somewhere they could be relatively safe. The heart of Masyaf was hardly that, anymore, even if his crew had no idea how deeply involved they were with possible treason.

It was uncomfortable to travel with Abbas’ guards, Ezio’s every move and word under scrutiny. He couldn’t risk talking to Altaïr, so he silently followed his companion’s line of thought. Whatever Abbas’ plans were for the artifacts, they were dangerous. He already held a quarter of the known galaxy in his palm; he didn’t need any more power in his arsenal.

 

They allowed Ezio to send word, but refused to let him include details on what they were doing. “Too risky,” Dharma growled by way of explanation when prompted. “The Grandmaster didn't put you here with us so you could blab it to every agent on Masyaf.”

There wasn’t a single second that Ezio was alone as they made their way over to the  _ Adjudicator.  _ When Dharma wasn't watching him, it was Cosette, who cleared her throat primly whenever Ezio threatened to slip her sight. Like this, they made their way to the docks where the  _ Adjudicator  _ sat low in her berth. She was vastly larger than Ezio’s smaller, nimbler Assassin ship –  a hammer to his knife. She was shaped like a salmon, her armored belly was low and round to deflect anti-aircraft, and pockmarked with gun nests, and her nose jutted into the air proudly. Fins streamlined her rotund figure and they shimmered with the tell-tale rainbow glitter of solar-sails. Her lascannon was nowhere to be seen, but all ships of her class assuredly toted one of those shipkiller guns around.

“Hop on board,” Cosette said with a small smile.

 

Ezio didn't get a second alone and it grated on his nerves. He couldn't consult with Altaïr or gather his thoughts, but he supposed that was the point. Abbas was testing him here, and Ezio would not fail.

He kept his thoughts on the ship to himself, but to him, she looked terrible. Bulky, pompous. Not like a ship meant to suit assassins.

“She is impressive.” He offered to Cosette in the hope of making some casual conversation.

 

“She’s one of the most powerful ships in the Brotherhood,” Cosette said, pride leaking into her voice. “Highest ship kill count  _ and _ best score in the war games. Before the Grandmaster’s ship,  _ Vengeance,  _ was built, she was the fleet’s flagship.”

Under Dharma’s supervision, they boarded the  _ Adjudicator _ . Dharma peeled off, but Cosette stuck with Ezio. “So, uh, you’re going to be joining us?”

 

“I am.” At least one of his unpleasant companions seemed amiable towards his presence. Ezio would listen to every boring detail regarding this vessel if he had to. Better that than enduring hostile silence. He didn't know what he'd done in the first place to earn their ire, but the unwelcome atmosphere wasn't difficult to detect.

“I look forward to seeing whatever this mystery is that the Grandmaster spoke of. It will be a nice change from hunting down agents.”

 

“It’s nice to no longer be the newest one,” Cosette said, growing more enthusiastic. “Learning about the artifacts and all though… there’s really nothing else like it. I always used to believe aliens existed, but I didn't think they'd be  _ really  _ real.”

She led him to the back of the ship. They passed other agents but they were in the same heavy armor that obscured their faces and bodies beyond recognition. A few of them noticed Ezio, but most ignored him determinedly. “What about you? You ever think about aliens?”

 

“Not in a concerned way. I figured that humans are the number one cause of human problems, and if aliens wanted to chime in on it, they’d be welcome to. Might give us something to unite against.” Ezio shrugged off his own theory, not terribly invested. Instead, he noticed with increasing concern how many members of this crew were fully fledged agents in heavy gear.

He turned his attention back to Cosette, who was leading him somewhere and seemed interested in simply talking, divulging information.

“Must be a dangerous place we’re going to. Everyone is in their heavies.”

 

“Yeah, it’s a group thing,” she smiled. “You never know with these things – better safe than sorry, right? Plus, you assassins have  your ceramo-armor, we have ceramo-plate.”

The ship shuddered around them like a beast waking up – they’d be moving soon. Cosette continued to chatter away with Ezio, seemingly endlessly talkative, when Altaïr spoke up. He’d elected to stay quiet when Esio couldn't talk to him, but something about the woman bothered him. After all, what professional organization just let one of its soldiers slack off to chat?

_ She is deliberately distracting you. Get out and find out where you are going. _

 

Ezio hadn’t noticed how long they’d been talking, but Cosette was fairly sociable and human and he couldn’t refuse her friendly conversation. However, as Altaïr pointed out, it seemed awfully convenient in keeping him from finding out his actual destination.

“Could you take me to the bridge? I’ve not been on one of a vessel such as this before.”

Ezio doubted that the innocent act of curiosity was going to fly in this company, but it was worth a try.

 

“The bridge?” she laughed lightly. “Commander Dharma’s going to be there and he does  _ not  _ like assassins. I’m not sure you'll enjoy spending your time feeling him glare at you.”

 

“Why is that? I don’t think I’ve personally offended Dharma at any point in time.” Ezio would keep her talking. If she was supposed to be distraction, he could use her to become an informant, more or less.

 

“Well, he says it because you’re all over-glorified knife jockeys who spend more time in Hedonia than on the field, but if you ask me?” She leaned in conspiratorially. “It’s ‘cause he didn't get into the assassin track in the academy. So he's sore about it.”

The ship shuddered again, going through the telltale motions of undocking and preparing for impulse burn. They’d have to lock in for podsleep soon – if not, the sheer gravitational force would paint them over the walls like jam.

“But don't worry about it, you'll be with us for ages, so you'll have plenty of time to prove you don't need to be hated, hah!”

 

“Right. And how long will I be with you, exactly?” Ezio almost wished Cosette wasn’t in the heavy plate; people were harder to seduce when you couldn’t see their face and read their reactions, so he didn’t want to risk making a fool of himself here; but she did seem very eager to talk with him.

“I’m not fond of podsleeping. How much of it will we have to endure?”

 

“You get sick too? I’ve got some pills for that. It shouldn't last too long – three systems over means a twenty-three hour sleep.”

 

“Three systems over? Where is that, exactly?”

Ezio maintained the friendly, only vaguely interested tone, though it was doubtful that she’d be so kind as to give him the full location and description of the mission they were on. That would be too convenient.

 

“I'm just a Corporal, so I don't know everything,” Cosette told him apologetically. “But it’s in the Braga System, in between Aleph and Bet.”

_ Braga? But that doesn't contain anything but a red dwarf and some dead rocks. Why would anything from the Precursors be  _ **_there_ ** _? _

 

“Braga isn’t known for much but geology. Interesting.” Ezio followed Cosette’s lead only to find himself not on the bridge, but staring at a room full of pods. All of the pods were open, online, and awaiting the crew.

“I guess we’ll see when we get there, hm?”

 

“That’s the spirit,” Cosette said brightly. “Go on, I’ll help you into your pod.” She refused to budge until Ezio was sealed into his tight little pod  As he got prepped, more and more soldiers filed into the room to enter their own pods. Cosette was one of the last to get inside hers, and she smiled and waved as she stepped in.

“Sleep well,” she mouthed across the room as the podsleep procedure began. One by one, the artificial sleep took hold of them as the ship’s AI took over in their place. 

_ Be careful,  _ Altaïr murmured as Ezio too slipped under.


	14. Chapter 14

Rough hands yanked Ezio out of podsleep. They shoved him into a chair, where manacles clamped over his wrists and ankles.

 

Podsleep wasn’t as easy to wake from as the regular kind. There were chemicals involved, slow activating reactors in the implants and a plethora of safeguards to ensure that the body wasn’t shocked into a stroke or a similar failure of an organ after a long duration of hibernation.

Still, the unusual position and the restraints were definitely a sign of danger and Ezio had a lifetime of training to react to it.

It was just a terrible shame that his body was absolutely not responsive.

“ _ Merda _ , what is the meaning of this?”

He squinted into the light and saw nothing but heavy armor around him.

 

“Don’t worry,” Cosette said, managing to sound bright and cheery even as Ezio was strapped down onto a medical chair. Another soldier stood next to her, but unlike her, he had his blaster drawn and trained on Ezio.

“Just procedural stuff,” she continued. “But don't be scared! It's like getting a shot and your implants will all be fine.”

_ I won't be able to communicate with you if they do that,  _ Altaïr said, alarmed.  _ They're going to pull me out. _

 

“Procedural stuff? That does sound concerning.” Ezio couldn’t move much, not yet, limbs still sluggish, or perhaps drugged further to keep him from defending himself. Either way, Altaïr and he were in danger, and he needed to get himself out of this. It was stupid of him to follow along with no backup plan in place, but there had not been time, in his defense, to set one up.

“My implants are fine. This isn’t necessary.”

He needed to buy time.

 

“Probably,” Cosette said, agreeable. “Now, don't move, alright?”

Outside of Ezio’s range of view, the door swooshed open and someone walked in.

“Is he ready?” a woman’s voice asked. “Make sure he is, I’m not going to repeat what happened last time.”

“He’s tied down pretty tight,” Cosette said. “How long will this take, doctor?”

“Shouldn’t take long at all if he's secure,” said the doctor. She drew up behind Ezio and touched him with cold, latex-covered fingers. “Hm. Specialized implants.”

 

There was no more sense in speaking to Cosette, or the doctor who had joined them. Ezio fell silent, following the cold touch along his collarbone, then neck.

They were definitely going to take out his cortical implant, or exchange it. Why, Ezio couldn’t guess at. There was no chance in hell they knew of Altaïr, but perhaps they knew he had something up his sleeve, or rather, in his neck.

“I’m giving you one warning, out of courtesy.”

 

“Ooh, very scary.” Cosette giggled as the doctor clamped a vice around Ezio’s head, keeping his head still. Something pressed around his implant site, cold and metal.

_ Ezio, get out of here as soon as you can. You know what must be done – if they take me away, or destroy me, you must carry out my work. _

The metal bit into his flesh.

_ I wish there was more time. All I can leave you is this – those who look into the Apple gain an ability to see things in a different way. I had it, and Desmond was in the process of discovering it. You too will possess it –   _

There was a click, and Altaïr’s voice abruptly stopped. Gone.

“This doesn't look like an Assassin standard cortical key,” the doctor said, curious. “Where did you get this, assassin?”

Cosette reached out for it and the doctor passed it to her. In her broad, heavily-armored gauntlet, Altaïr’s bright blue, crystal chip looked awfully small and thin. Cosette ran her thumb down the side, turning it over, her face unseen under her helmet.

 

It was like having a piece of you torn away, a limb, half a body, worse. Ezio could feel it, even if there was only the dull ache of removing the chip, and saw stars bloom behind his eyes from his implants failing to adjust well and forcing themselves into a hard reset.

For a moment, he could do nothing but watch. Altaïr, everything he was and represented, was reduced to a thin slice of blue crystal, delicate, vulnerable, infinitely precious.

And then, Ezio’s implants returned to their function, booting into high gear and combat readiness and he could no longer watch or wait. 

First, the shackles. He was still in his ceramo-armor, even if he was without his weapons and tools, and that afforded him some benefits that he could still depend on. It would hurt like hell, but he had bigger worries than a little physical damage.

The only way to break out of those shackles was to somehow pull his hand through one, and that required a quick, clean break. It would also render his hand useless very easily, but the armor had a pain suppressing agent that could be injected if the implants registered enough distress. Ezio would be able to fight and move if he got himself loose.

He planned it in seconds, thankful that he’d had the training to take on heavily armored but ultimately, immobile foes. Get his right arm loose. The doctor was still close enough to be useful, maybe he could get his head free. By that time, the two heavies would have reacted, but if Ezio managed to wrest the doctor’s control device from her by then, he was potentially free. Good. A short plan, manageable and simple. He’d have to worry about Altaïr’s safety after he was liberated.

“I gave you a warning.”

The doctor came in range and Ezio sprang into action. Or rather, he pulled his arm back hard enough to do sufficient damage to his hand, snaking out to grab the doctor’s device from her pocket. The painkillers shot into his arm and it was time to show Cosette why some agents were more dangerous than all the weapons stored away in her armory. The doctor went flying into the second guard, throwing off his aim and giving Ezio time to hit the right button on the device.

He was free before the first shot ever fell.

 

Blaster fire scattered all over the room and Cosette sidestepped the two with a harsh curse. She wasn't distracted for long, however. She drew her sidearm – another blaster – and managed to clip Ezio before he darted out of his restraints.

“I need back-up!” she barked into her comm, her gun trained on the assassin, “Right now! The assassin is free!”

 

She was the focus of Ezio’s attention, long before she called for reinforcements. In her hand, the chip was in danger and Ezio couldn’t risk a moment longer of it than necessary. The second guard had scrambled to his feet, the doctor fleeing to a corner. Ezio waited for him to lunge into close combat range, and he did. A mistake on his part, because as soon as he moved forward, Ezio side-stepped his attack and grabbed his wrist, liberating him of his bracer and blade, which, promptly ended lodged in the guard’s stomach. Even heavy armor wasn’t impenetrable, and as an assassin, it was Ezio’s duty to know its weak points. 

Blasterfire would be a continued problem, however and he couldn’t linger with the bleeding, nameless guard. Cosette was still at large, and she had what Ezio needed most of all; Altaïr’s chip.

The fallen guard’s firearm was easy enough to pick up and use on the lights, until the medibay fell into complete darkness. 

Ezio’s element was surprise, and now that vision had been reduced to near nothingness, he could use it again. Quickly, he found some hold on the wall and climbed, up, up, he needed to be above Cosette and pinpoint the small joints in the armor that protected her head and shoulders before he could strike.

She’d never see him coming.

 

Cosette backed up into the corner to ensure her back and flanks were covered, and switched to night vision when the room went dark. But the assassin was like a spider – he’d skittered out of sight. Hiding, probably.

The chip was still in her hand but in her panic, she'd held on too hard. A thin spiderweb network of cracks had crawled up the crystal.

Movement caught her. She aimed, but it was only the doctor scrambling for the door.

 

Ezio couldn’t wait any longer. Every second spent assessing the situation meant more time for those reinforcements to arrive and for the threat to Altaïr’s existence to mount.

He was above her now, and dropped silently, with precision. There was one, thin seam between armor and helmet and that was exactly where he struck.

 

Cosette jerked silently as the blade pierced the thin junction within her spinal column; she went limp, a puppet with its limbs cut, and her grip spasmed before she crumpled down.

Altaïr was nowhere to be seen. The bulk of ceramo-plate could have crushed him easily.

 

Ezio turned her around as soon as the body collapsed. The heavy pile of human and armor was all the more reason for the sudden panic welling up in him to be a valid concern. Altaïr’s fragility had never struck him harder than right now, when the chip could be nothing but crystal shards, crushed in a dead woman’s grasp.

He pried her fingers apart, and remembered how to breathe; there was the chip, thin, blue, glowing gently in the dark. He wanted to snatch it out of Cosette’s gloved hand, but tiny, dark hairline fractures stopped him in his tracks. 

Oh, gods above, was the chip damaged? Broken? His heart lurched in his chest, before it began to pound so uncomfortably that it might have burst through his ribs. Ezio felt numb as he reached out, gently, picking the chip up as delicately as humanly possible and let it rest in his palm.

It held together, no piece missing, nothing broken off. Ezio didn’t dare to breathe his relief as he brought the chip to his cortical implant, which opened up obediently. Altaïr would be safe, with him again, and they could escape together.

“Altaïr?”

 

Nothing. There was no click, no response, as the chip sat in his implant like nothing but a thin slice of glass. Where he had once bloomed into existence upon contact, the chip was now silent, as empty as a room with everything taken out.

Altaïr, if he was even alive anymore, wasn't here.

 

-x-

 

Ezio should know how to live with half a heart by now. Heartbreak had hounded his life, from the death of his family to the lovers he’d lost to his enemies. And now, Altaïr. 

Yet here he was, covered in the blood of those he’d once called brothers (and plenty of his own), propelled only by pain and anger. The entire ship was mobilized, every member of crew that was capable of combat sent to deal with the ‘rogue’ assassin, though most of them needed to be woken from podsleep first.

Ezio cut them down. Each that would stand before him was bound and marked for death. He knew no reason and no mercy anymore. Not when his head was silent and empty. Every niche that Altaïr had clung to, stayed in, warmed with his light, was nought but cold and desolate.

Only anger gave Ezio the perseverance to find an escape from the ship, and slaughter her crew on his way out.

He’d managed to, in his blind rage, get closer to the shuttle bay. Reason abandoned him, but training and survival took over.

He couldn’t depend on corners and vents and shadowed paths through the ship; this time, there was no clever intelligence to give him combat assistance and a map. Ezio fought his way along up until now, but it was quiet in this part of the ship.

Ezio was starting to feel the adrenaline wear down. His body ached, his armor was beyond damaged and the pain suppressors were losing their edge. His broken hand, blaster wounds, lacerations, everything was slowing him down. 

But the shuttlebay wasn’t far. Just a little, little more. He had to. He couldn’t die in this place.

One hand on the blaster, the other on the wall, he made his way towards the four shuttles, comfortably parked in the spacious bay.

 

Sniper fire nearly took his hand off before he touched the first shuttle along his path. It left a dent in the hull instead, and more footsteps pounded on the floor as plated soldiers burst into the bay after Ezio. Two of them took positions along the upper deck to put down precision shots, and four more put up their blasters. Behind them all, however, came up Dharma, wielding a laserblade that burnt the very air.

He leapt down from the deck and into the shuttle Ezio had reached for, his weight crumpling the metal like it were paper. His nest leap took him straight to Ezio, his giant claymore buzzing as it swung for his chest in a cleaving blow. “Auditore!”

 

Ezio moved back into a graceless roll that he quickly recovered from. Damn it, he shouldn’t have dawdled. At least it was just one shuttle that had taken the brunt of the damage. Three more chances to get out of here.

But first, he had to deal with Dharma.

“ _Mi dispiace_ , I seem to have forgotten your name. What was it again?”

He sounded more confident than he felt, his exhausted body giving warning that there wasn’t much left in the tank. He had found his equipment along the way, and at least the sword was familiar as he raised it in his left hand. His right had become a little more useless with every second, broken bones and swollen flesh rendering it impossible for fine use.

 

Dharma didn't waste his breath on chatter. He roared wordlessly and swung his blade again, cleaving a deep gouge in the floor where Ezio had stood. For a man who wore so much heavy armor, he was deceptively quick. Blaster fire kept Ezio tightly corralled, close enough for Dharma’s glowing sword.

They danced like that for a few seconds. Dharma stood between him and the shuttles, and he nearly succeeded in taking off Ezio’s head more than once. It looked bad. He was pinned, outnumbered, and tiring, and even if Dharma went down, he still had to contend with the six other soldiers who would make their blasters rain on his head if he moved wrong.

Just as it began to look hopeless, however, the ship suddenly rocked in place. Dharma nearly fell, but caught himself in time.

Ezio’s comm crackled.  _ “Hello, captain. I hope you don't mind us jumping into the fray.”  _ Seraphina’s voice was calm and slightly smug.  _ “Hedonia really isn't the same without you.” _

 

“Sera!” It was enough of a distraction to Dharma for Ezio to gather his breath and pull himself out of the worst of it. His right hand, useless in a fight, was clamped on his neck, protecting the implant and the chip that rested inside of it from the force unleashed in the fight and hopefully, further damage.

It had looked pretty bad for Ezio, right until his salvation came through in the shape of his crew and ship. He was going to worship at Picquery’s feet if they made it out of here alive.

Right now, however, he had a behemoth to deal with. Taking him down would take too long. Ezio had no doubt that the Firenze could not hold her own for long. She was built for speed and stealth, not titanic firefighting.

Quickly, with as much speed as he could muster, he ran towards Dharma, jumping at the man, blaster first, pressing it against his helmet and firing off every round he had left. It might not kill, but it would shatter the primary vision system and the laser targeting controls, and that’s all Ezio needed.

He moved away from Dharma and raced for an intact shuttle.

“Be ready to jump, I’m in a shuttle, give me twenty seconds!”

 

_ “Understood, captain!” _

The  _ Adjudicator  _ shook as the  _ Firenze  _ danced around her like a fly around a bull, stinging, until her captain could free himself. The shuttle that Ezio chose was shabbier than the rest, an older model, but she came to life under his hands just the same.

Blaster fire peppered her side as the shuttle prepared to take off. Before she could fly, a laserblade bit into her aft, carving a long gouge through the hull. Air began to slip through it.

 

“Shit!” Ezio whirled around, but there was nothing he could do to plug the hole. He jerked over to one side of the shuttle, reaching for buckles to hold him in place and barely managing.

“Picquery, I’m gonna need a pickup. Fast.”

He could barely reach the terminal, but he set the shuttle to launch into space. Better than falling back to the  _ Adjudicator _ and certain death.

 

The  _ Firenze  _ wasted no time; as soon as her captain spat out of the behemoth’s side, she swooped in, caught him in a tractor beam, and engaged a burn that pulled her away from the  _ Adjudicator. _ The press of the impulse threatened to flatten Ezio, but Seraphina was smart enough to keep him in mind. Little by little, the  _ Firenze  _ slipped the  _ Adjudicator _ ’s grasp.

Yet despite everything going on, Altaïr remained unresponsive.

 

He was safe. Alive, he’d gotten away. Ezio found no relief in it, not when there was still a potential casualty to this whole trap.

Once the tractor beam held, Ezio engaged the emergency hatch-door and found himself sealed off in the cockpit, alone in space with only the bare minimum of functions. The shuttle had taken on damage, but it still ran. 

Ezio couldn’t help it; he pulled the chip out of his implant, where it had been sat, silent and dead, for the entirety of his escape. Fear consumed his heart as he fingered the fine tears, the miniature fractures. Altaïr...could be gone. He could be entirely dead to the world, taken from Ezio before either of them were remotely prepared for separation.

Ezio felt it weigh on his mind, just like Cristina’s fate, just like his father’s. The searing oblivion of loss was close again, so close that he could taste it if he dared to swallow down the blood and bile. 

But perhaps, he would be lucky, this one time. Maybe he would not lose a love that had only just begun to bloom, that had no chance to take flight just yet and lead Ezio to bliss, however temporary.

The chance was slim, razor-thin. With shaking fingers, he placed the chip into the shuttle’s terminal and waited.

“Altaïr?” he whispered into the silence, but he would receive no answer. The shuttle remained quiet, no light in the terminal, no telltale crackle of audio systems being adjusted to create Altaïr’s voice.

Ezio leaned back in the chair, numb from the neck down. 

So, this was to be it. Again. He was at this crossroad once more. Everything in his life cycled back to death.

But this time, it was worse. When Ezio’s family had died, he’d been young. Trauma and denial took much from that pain, though the anger would keep the memory bright.

When Cristina had been murdered to get to him, Ezio’s sharp grief had turned into a massacre, his bloodlust swallowing the sorrow.

But here?

Now?

Nothing. There was only cold, dead silence, all around him. His body was too tired for anger, and nothing numbed the pain. The loss of Altaïr was more than the love of a friend, or a mentor, or family. It was all of these things combined, and Ezio had never known how lonely he could be as just one man inside of his head.

“ _ Amore mio _ ...”

The terminal stared back at him, unyielding. The chip must have been broken in the fight. Altaïr...Altaïr was gone.

The realization of it didn’t call for a burst of anger. It laced itself into Ezio’s every breath, every beat of his numb heart. Gone. Gone was this wonder, this marvel, this love. Gone, just like that, broken in one hand by someone who did not know what they were robbing him of.

Ezio didn’t remember the last time he cried, but when he closed his eyes, he felt the wet warmth of tears slip over his face.


	15. Chapter 15

The  _ Firenze  _ put a decent amount of distance between itself and the  _ Adjudicator  _ before she slowed down enough to reel in her tractor beam. The shuttle was dragged into the hangar and the airlock tunnel sealed shut before Seraphina strode in, back straight. She threw up a snappy salute before the shuttle’s round porthole.

“Welcome back, captain,” she said, lifting her chin a fraction. “I hope your ride wasn’t too bumpy – we’ll need to enter podsleep soon if we want to throw off the  _ Adjudicator  _ from our tail. She wasn’t too pleased when we last left her.”

Ezio’s expression as he came out, however, made her falter. Her captain had never been a man to wear his emotions on his sleeve. Not in the way you’d expect, anyway. Much of him was guarded behind a carefully manicured curtain of charm and smiles; if he could help it, he did not show his anger, or his grief, in front of his subordinates.

Now, though…

“...I can continue to command the  _ Firenze,”  _ she said, taking a step back, lowering her salute. “If you need it, sir.”

 

Ezio could not school his face back to what it should be. Confidence and competence were far from him at the moment. He stood, covered in the blood of other men and his own, armor scorched where it wasn’t broken, his palm closed around something infinitely precious, and now, infinitely useless. He couldn’t bring himself to leave the chip behind, just as he couldn’t bring himself to wipe the devastation from his face, or the tracks of tears from his skin.

“...command her, lieutenant. I...I...”

He needed to be alone, and he didn’t. He was more alone now than he’d ever hoped to be, his back turned on the Brotherhood.

 

Her face softened imperceptibly. “Go to your quarters, captain,” Sera said, adopting an uncommonly gentle tone. “Rest. We will handle everything from here.”

She saw him to his room before she marched off to save the tiny little world that the  _ Firenze  _ encapsulated. The ship’s AI was silent, as it usually was during these moments, but it helpfully turned on Ezio’s private terminal to offer him a distraction. 

 

Ezio knew he should do something about his broken body and his demolished armor, but all he managed was to sink down by the terminal, defeated as he stared at the bright lights.

He lifted his hand, eyes moving from terminal to chip. There was no sense in running scans on it, but...just in case. Just in case anything at all remained, like a sliver of Altaïr’s code. Anything to tell Ezio that it had all been real.

The chip went gently into the terminal, and Ezio waited for more silence.

 

The silence that had settled over Ezio’s quarters felt impenetrable, almost solid in its thick, grieving misery. The crackle from his speakers then felt like a punch, a shout in a church. “– swer me, Ezio!”

Altaïr’s voice boomed through the terminal, raw with dread. For him, the world had been empty and silent since the moment he’d been pulled out of Ezio’s head. With nothing else to do, he shouted into the void, demanding that Ezio speak to him, that he be safe, that he be  _ alive. _

For all Altaïr knew, only minutes could have passed. Or hours. Or  _ years.  _ All he’d felt was logging onto a system, but it was empty of human presence, empty of what he actually wanted.

“Ezio. Ezio!”

 

“Altaïr?”

Ezio didn’t dare hope, but could he be going mad this quickly? Could his mind have been lost enough to give in to dreams and fantasies?

Surely, that was not possible.

He looked at the terminal, and something between a sob and a laugh escaped his throat, a horribly dry sound as he saw lights flicker there.

“Altaïr?!”

 

A reply! Even better, it was from a voice that he recognized, the one he had hoped for all this time. And yet, Ezio still wasn’t  _ here.  _ Altaïr’s attention span finally expanded from a needlepoint as he reached out and he realized he was in a terminal – the  _ Firenze _ ’s terminal.

The lights of the terminal flashed and he collected himself until he could construct a wireframe imitation of his face. The speakers adjusted further until they came closer to his voice. “You’re alive,” he breathed, relief coursing through him like a drug. “And we’re back on your ship… Ezio. How much time has passed? Being pulled out from you is the last thing I saw. Are you safe? Unhurt?”

 

Ezio kept it together for maybe half a second, before he bowed over the terminal until his forehead touched warm, metal casing. He closed his eyes and let relief shake through him, whittling away at the numb horror of his grief. Altaïr was not gone. He was still there, still speaking, he had not disappeared into silence.

Tears came again, but this time, Ezio felt them and accepted them.

“I thought you were gone...the chip, it’s cracked, it’s damaged.” He couldn’t hold onto a terminal, but it didn’t matter, as long as he could hear Altaïr.

 

Altaïr wasn’t someone who got  _ nervous.  _ After all that he’d seen, everything he’d been through, getting jittery was well in the past. And yet, listening to Ezio’s shaking voice, he felt a stab of restless, fearful energy. It took him two tries to get the terminal camera working and adjust it so that he could see Ezio.

_ Blood.  _ He was covered in it. Upon closer examination, Altaïr saw that Ezio had no obvious lacerations that could have been the source of it. But his hand was clearly broken, and purpling at the fingers, and he looked like he was both wretched and in pain.

Altaïr wished he had a body more than anything now. A body with which to hold Ezio, one to cradle him, and reassure him. As it was now, all he could do was speak, and it felt frightfully inadequate for everything that just happened.

“Don’t worry,” he said, his voice gentling. “I am fine. Whatever damage that might have been was clearly just… surface. Unimportant. We’re both alive, Ezio. You got us both out.”

As he spoke, Altaïr reached through the ship’s network and alerted the doctor.

 

Ezio nodded mutely, unwilling to move away from the terminal. It had been too close to becoming a reality, this loss that he could not stomach. 

“It’s so good to hear you again...I cannot lose you. Not like that, not ever.”

Now that the shock and grief could slowly drain away, Ezio’s body reminded him that he had a broken hand, several broken ribs and some severe contusions. Ezio knew he should have gone to the medical station, but...there were other priorities on his mind.

And one more thing that he probably needed to address.

“Back on that ship...I tried to connect you to my implant, but nothing happened.”

 

“You won’t,” Altaïr said, steadying as the world asserted itself around him. “I will always be here, Ezio.”

And yet… Altaïr had not been present for much of what happened, but he could imagine how it went down. He was small enough to fit inside a human palm; how many times had he escaped death through sheer luck and Ezio’s skill? How many opportunities had come up for him to be broken into blue powder if only fortune had spun in a worse direction?

It was a sobering thought.

Ezio’s words drew him out of his troubled thoughts and Altaïr’s wireframe image frowned faintly.

“I don’t know what that means,” Altaïr said, faintly apologetic. “Maybe they broke your implants. Maybe they altered something, so that I wouldn’t be able to connect to you. I don’t know. But this… this means we can’t keep going on like this. This form makes me too vulnerable.”

Before, he had dismissed it as something that would take too much time and effort for minimal pay-off, but the situation as it was now proved that that line of thinking was untenable. Suicidal, even. “I need a body.”

 

“That is easier said than done.” Ezio started to peel pieces of his damaged armor away, letting them clatter to the floor as he assessed the damage.

“If we can find a way to reconnect you to me, permanently, I would do it.”

 

“No, not a human one,” Altaïr said. “An android. There will be no question of synchronization and the technology exists. The only question is how to retrieve it.”

It was common knowledge that the Commonwealth guarded their android technology jealously and would –  _ had  _ – went to war if their neighbors tried to discover the tech for themselves. But no net was airtight; here and there, holes existed for little pieces to float through. There had to be someone out there in all the reaches of neutral space who had both the knowledge and the equipment to build Altaïr a body.

 

Ezio clenched his teeth as he pulled away a particularly stubborn piece of ceramo that seemed to have fused with the skin of his abdomen. 

“I don’t know if we’re in a position to persuade anyone to help us, Altaïr.”

Right now, Ezio wasn’t even in a position to walk, let alone jet across the universe in search for technology he’d never seen in person. Besides, he needed to speak with his crew first.

“I’m... _ dio _ , I’m gonna pass out. Tell Picquery to...Cartaga...”

 

“Ezio!” Altaïr wished he could rush to catch him, but the terminal remained stubbornly unmoving. Altaïr pinged the doctor faster, suddenly irritated by his brisk walk through the corridors. Ezio needed urgent medical attention, and he needed it  _ now. _

Once the doctor had collected Ezio, Altaïr turned his attention to the rest of the ship.  _ Cartaga.  _ Where was that?

A quick consultation of star maps indicated that it was a space station outside of Brotherhood space. Ostensibly a neutral territory,  _ pirate _ station was what it really was. It was the biggest station for the next ten systems, so it was fairly populated. It was, Altaïr concluded, the kind of space that rogue technology could be found.

He relayed the order to the bridge as discreetly as he could, given that his presence remained a secret. Once their course was set, Altaïr drifted until he found the medical station on the  _ Firenze.  _ The doctor, Leonard McQueen, a middle-aged man with stress lines around his eyes and a twanging accent, berated the senseless body of Ezio as he worked. Despite his steady stream of rebukes, he worked quickly and efficiently to sedate him and then remove the pieces of armor that Ezio had not gotten to.

Underneath it, Ezio was a patchwork of bruises, cauterized laser cuts, and blaster burns. McQueen’s cursing got more furious, but he didn’t falter.

It took him over two hours to patch up his captain. By then, the doctor was plainly exhausted and stressed enough to snarl at the officers who tried to visit his bay to see the captain. He stowed him away in a private, secluded room far from prying eyes, surrounding by monitors, and stamped out tiredly. Once he was gone, Altaïr swept into the room.

He scanned his stressed, drawn face. Asleep, scrubbed clean by Dr. McQueen, and stripped of his armor, Ezio showed how young he was. In that moment, loss punched the air out of Altaïr. Or what felt like it, anyway.

When Ezio slept, he used to surf his memories. Now, out of his body, he couldn’t do that. The loss of it hit harder than anything before; it was so simple and so trivial, but  _ that _ was what confirmed it for Altaïr. He and Ezio were truly,  _ really,  _ separate, for the first time in a year, and there was nothing he could do about it.

Maybe his implants could be repaired. It was thin hope, but Altaïr had a sinking feeling that it was a false one.

With nothing else to do, Altaïr settled down to watch Ezio sleep, tracing the lines of his face over and over again.

 

-x-

 

It was like walking around with only one ear working. Or maybe an eye. A hand? A lung? Ezio felt lesser without Altaïr inside of him, but it was better than knowing him gone. Anything was better than that.

He’d woken up when he was moved from the medibay to a pod for the jump. Then, the next waking would happen about thirty minutes away from Cartaga. The station was surrounded by a field of debris, which was hard to navigate by large vessels and often avoided just because of it.

To be fair, Cartaga was hard to distinguish from the debris, looking like a pile of garbage had floated together and gotten stuck that way. It was unappealing at the best of times.

But the location wasn’t important. The anonymity it offered was. 

The ship felt too clean when Ezio stepped into the corridor beyond the pod chamber. Like he’d been away for long enough for the ship to change. He touched the wall.

“Altaïr?” he asked, quiet, not sure if he was asleep in his head or a complete figment of his imagination. “Are you here? With me?”

 

Altaïr amused himself by carefully assisting the helmsman with his navigation through the debris field. He didn’t do much and offered only a little nudge here and here to get him going, and the lieutenant seemed blissfully unaware of his involvement. In fact, he was happily bragging about it to Lieutenant Pryce, who pretended to scowl but also ran his foot up his leg under their consoles.

Altaïr knew this with an unfortunate amount of clarity thanks to his penetration of the ship’s entire sensor suite.

He gave him another nudge before turning away to regard Ezio, who’d clambered out of podsleep after everyone else.

“I am,” Altaïr said. He flickered the lights of the stretch of corridor that Ezio was in. “We’ll be upon Cartaga soon. Do you intend to unboard?”

 

“No. Maybe. I...need to tell my crew the truth. They deserve to know. I would be dead without them.” Ezio should have told them earlier, just as Altaïr advised. But now was hardly the time for ‘I told you so’. He let his hand rest on the wall. Altaïr was a ghost in the ship, one that could control what he chose to because Ezio’s terminal had rights to every part of the Firenze. At least he wasn’t trapped in a cracked, silent chip anymore. It wasn’t the same as having his reassuring voice in Ezio’s head, but it was better than silence.

Ezio felt the absence keenly, and his chest ached for it.

“I’ll give them a choice. Standing against Abbas isn’t something I can simply expect from them.”

 

“A good decision,” he agreed. It was better to know who would stand with you now than to test untried mettle. “But I wanted to ask if you would take me with you. I can go in a handheld, or something similar. The ship is fine, but it’s not…”

_ Not very close to you. _

“Not easy to take around a station.”

 

Ezio tensed at that. The damage done to the chip sat bone-deep with him now, as if every crack on the blue crystal was a death sentence for Altaïr and by extension, Ezio too. Podsleep and recovery had done nothing about those wounds and Ezio would be loathed to put Altaïr anywhere but where he was.

“Perhaps that is a blessing in disguise. If anything, this experience has taught me that I must take better care of you. Bringing you to the front of potential battle was foolish of me. You can still use the comm systems, right?”

Ezio would die before he exposed Altaïr to danger again, and that was a resolution he could not be dissuaded from.

 

“You want to leave me?” Altaïr said, disbelieving. The lights flickered again before he summoned a terminal for his use, just so Ezio could see the full scope of his disapproving, frowning face. “There are portable devices I can be slotted into. I still intend to find myself a body and I’m not doing it from the  _ docks.” _

 

“I want you to be safe,” Ezio leaned against the wall, but found it to be no comfort. No matter what, Altaïr wasn’t close to him anymore. It tore at Ezio, in a way he’d never experienced pain before. Of course he was relieved that Altaïr survived at all, but this was a new level of being denied the little contact he had with the phantom he loved.

“You don’t understand...when I thought you were gone, I was...Dio, I am ashamed to say it, but I was ready to give up. I know I should be stronger, but I can’t...I can’t do this without you.”

 

He sighed. The withering lecture died on his lips and Altaïr was quiet as he considered what to say. “Our lives will always come with risk, Ezio,” he said at last. “You know this more than most. Fearing what will come next is not our way, because it would cripple us.”

He could die. Ezio could die. It was simply the way of this world, and there was no way to deny it.

“There were many times I could have died, far before I ever met you. And yet, I still live on. This is not merely an errand or a whim of mine. This is my life – the culmination of the decisions I made.” They were nearly upon Cartaga now. “You say you cannot do this without me, but you’d also leave me behind? That strikes me profoundly unequal.”

 

“Do you have to be so wise, all the time?” Ezio knew when he was being reprimanded, no matter how gently. Altaïr was right, but Ezio’s heart disagreed. This thing between them was new and unexplored, a tender thing that Ezio hadn’t even really gotten to taste. Was it so surprising that he selfishly wanted to keep Altaïr out of harm’s way?

“I don’t want to leave you behind. I just want to make sure you don’t disappear before...before we can see this through.”

 

“I will not,” Altaïr said, all patience again. Then his tone grew more edged. “But you will take me with you, Ezio. I trusted you with that and I will be… deeply disappointed if my trust appears misplaced.”

His chip was damaged, but it should be fine if it stayed encased in a handheld. Ezio could attach it to his armor and it’d almost be like before.

“Why did you bring us here anyway?” Altaïr asked, trusting that the previous conversation had ended.

 

Ezio didn’t like the implication that he’d fail the entire mission, simply for wanting to keep Altaïr safe. It wasn’t like that, he just wanted to take precautions, that was all.

Still, the topic was finished, Altaïr had moved on.

“Cartaga has a lot of...traffic. If some members of my crew find themselves disagreeing with me and my goals, then here will be their last port of call. From here on out, I must know that each of the men and women accompanying me will be ready to die for the cause.”

 

“And the technology?” he prompted. Culling the few who'd rather go their own way was good, but that was a task of one day. Altaïr had his eyes on a greater, more important prize.

“Do you know anyone who could aid us?”

 

“I might. Well, I do, but he doesn’t live here.” Ezio had contacted Leonardo months ago, with no luck. Perhaps he could find out some information on Cartaga, find out what happened to the colony where he’d last seen his friend settle down. Leonardo was a mad sort of inventor, who lived in his head, centuries away from anyone else. His husband Salai had been keen to take him as far from the Brotherhood as space permitted and that had been the last Ezio heard of them. Supposedly, they settled on some moon called Damerun V, but Ezio had no idea where that was even located.

“Cartaga is a pirate port.”

 

“Alright,” Altaïr said, repressing his impatience with a silent sigh. Being inside non-human systems discomfited him and his mood was growing dimmer – but Ezio did not need to face his worsening mood. “Then you should go handle your crew.”

There was little else he could offer now. A ping went through his comm system and Altaïr let it pass automatically.

_ “We’ve arrived at Cartaga, captain.” _

 

“Good. Tell the crew to assemble on the flight deck. All of them. If they’re not essential to our survival, I want them there.”

It was time to tell them the truth, and Ezio didn’t feel in the slightest prepared for it. He ended the comm and touched the wall again, addressing Altaïr alone.

“...I will come get you for a handheld after I speak to them.”

 

“Very well,” Altaïr replied. Then, with nothing else to do, he settled in to watch the sparks fly.


	16. Chapter 16

The  _ Firenze  _ had a small crew, most of whom operated the bridge. The rest of the ship was meant to fly on very little human maintenance, as the ship AI usually took care of that. Picquery herded them into the flight deck - Pryce and Hale, inseparable as usual, came in together, while Lydia shot Seraphina the occasional longing look. Helsey and Riley had been summoned from their break, while Doctor Leonard looked around boredly. The three other technicians, Yamada, Yuri, and Yena, came in last, having been pulled out of the docking preparations that they’d been undertaking.

“So what’s the problem?” Pryce asked, never the one to be silent. “Y’know, aside from defectin’.”

Seraphina gave him a quelling look, but she couldn’t conceal the curious glance she shot at Ezio. Everyone had been wondering what the hell was going on.

 

“Defecting isn’t quite the right word. Allow me to explain, I think it is long overdue.” Ezio had replaced his ceramo-armor, and looked the part once more. His hood was pooled behind his head, but it would soon take its rightful place and conceal his face. But for this address, he wanted the crew to see him. To see all of him, laid bare before them, in a manner of speaking.

“The Brotherhood is no longer what it promises to be. What we were all raised to see, doesn’t exist. It is the long arm of a man drunk on power and drowning in fear. The grandmaster of the Brotherhood is nothing but a corrupt, old man, who the rightful place from someone far more worthy of being followed.

But, I suspect, that may not be so relevant to many of you, so I will put it simply; you already know I no longer follow Masyaf’s directive. This attempt on my life only proves that Masyaf is aware of it too. But I will not be eliminated quietly, or run and hide. I will fight. Fight to restore the Brotherhood to what it is supposed to be, to what the founder intended it to be.”

Ezio paused, unsure if he could tell the crew about Altaïr, unsure if he  _ should _ . He decided against it. That knowledge was still too private, too vulnerable. A chip was too easy to abduct or destroy. 

He continued onto the part that really mattered.

“You’ve never done anything but serve faithfully at my side. And that kind of loyalty cannot be bought. I am grateful for each and every one of you, which is why I cannot let you continue without express awareness of what it is I intend to do,” Ezio breathed in deeply, “I’m going to topple the Brotherhood and cleanse away the corruption. I’m going to war with Masyaf. Anyone who does not wish to join me, Cartaga is your last chance to get off of this boat. I understand if you wish to leave. I will hold it against none of you. But I cannot look away any longer from what has been festering in the very heart of our Brotherhood.” 

 

Seraphina’s expression went through a complicated journey of emotions. Before she could open her mouth to say anything, however, Pryce exchanged a glance with Hale and said, “Great. Then we’ll be off. Have fun committing suicide, Auditore.”

He waved before he walked out of the flight deck. After a moment, Helsey quietly, wordlessly, followed them out.

“How long has this been going on?” Sera finally asked. 

Lydia took a step closer to her, and said, “That’s… a lot to drop on us, captain. Kind of… too much?”

 

“I cannot lessen the truth. Perhaps I should have told you earlier, but I wished it had not gone this far.” Ezio wasn’t surprised at all to see Payne trail out with his lover in hand. Hale might have stayed on his own, but Pryce was a very capital-focused personality. He put his own interests before others.

Ezio concentrated on those that had stayed.

“Do you remember the mission to V-F18?”

 

“Yes?” More looks were exchanged around the crew and a few more trickled out, unsure but not liking what they heard. Loyalty to the Brotherhood was one of the first lessons you learnt, even  _ before _ you entered the academy. The Brotherhood was family, was home, and no one in their right mind waged against their  _ family. _

If Ezio had been any other man that himself, Sera likely would have walked out too. But she would at least let him say his piece, just so she could make an informed decision. She glanced at Lydia. “Something happened there?”

 

“Yes. Something that opened my eyes to what was happening to the Brotherhood,” Ezio looked at each of them. These were the loyal few that would stand by him, and to them, he would entrust his secret.

“A Turing AI. Does anyone not know what that is?”

 

“Uh, here?” Lydia raised her hand. “I’ve heard of AI, but not  _ Turing _ AI.”

“It’s what I am called,” Altaïr chose to pipe in at that moment. The terminals on the flight deck all flickered online and showed his face. “My name is Altaïr. I am a Turing AI constructed from the brain scan of Altaïr ibn-La’Ahad prior to his demise.”

Seraphina took a step back, cautious. “You found this at V-F18. But you swore in your reports that you were never inside the ship. Did you  _ lie,  _ captain?”

“I knew it,” Lydia muttered. “Your signal got strangely jumpy around the end.”

 

“I did. I apologize. But it is a delicate matter, as you can imagine. Turing AI’s are very much not on the legal side of things. Least of all when made outside of a research lab. And this one,” Ezio gestured to the terminals, gaze softening ever so slightly,

“Is particularly special. It may be an AI, but I have no doubt that it, he, is every piece of the founder I could hope to find. Grandmaster Abbas was the cause of Altaïr’s death. I will not let it go unavenged.”

 

Sera’s expression grew doubtful, as Altaïr expected. He would be  _ worried _ if she took his word at face value – suspicious was just how an assassin should be. “How do you know it’s telling the truth?” she asked, looking at one of the terminals. “It’s a computer program. They can be altered. Made.”

“I understand your doubts, Lieutenant Picquery,” Altaïr said. “Captain Auditore held many of these doubts when we first met. I was able to prove myself through exchanging memories.”

“You put it in your  _ head?”  _ Lydia exclaimed. “So how do we know we can trust  _ you,  _ captain?”

 

That question, again. Desmond and his friends had asked it too, and Ezio’s answer had not satisfied them. How could he convey the truth of it all to them without sounding mad, or very, very compromised?

What would they think of him if they knew the depth that he had gone to with an AI? They would think him insane, and he’d be left alone on his ship.

“You cannot. I could ask you to try and ignore the absurdity of it all, but I will not. I could tell you that you’ve known me for long enough to understand my intentions, but you do not. All I can ask of you is to think about what I have said. Think about the Brotherhood, think about our missions. If any of it casts even the smallest shadow of doubt in you, come with me. Help me.”

 

“There is no reason for you to trust us,” Altaïr said after Ezio said his piece. “What proof we have will seem suspect to the most suspicious mind, and we do not have the time to spend mustering up further evidence. But your captain is correct –the Brotherhood has moved away into a new era of dominance and power plays. Whether you doubt my identity is not truly important, not when Abbas continues to abuse his power.”

Sera frowned. She took a step back and Lydia followed her. They talked to each other for a few seconds, occasionally glancing up to study Ezio and Altaïr, before Sera stepped up again.

“I don’t know if I can trust that AI,” she said seriously, “or if you’re affected by it. But I know things haven’t been right lately, and that something had to be done. So… we stay, captain. Don’t let us down.”

 

“Grazie. I will not.”

Ezio bowed his head to Seraphina, who was vital in motivating some further members of the crew to stay. 

“Then we will set a course for Damerun V, as soon as those that chose to leave have departed. We’re running out of time to move freely, as Masyaf will no doubt have learned of my escape.”

It was essential that they travelled as far as they could from Brotherhood space and regroup. He had other agents to contact and personally convince, and that would take a while. But Altaïr’s repair was of imminent importance.

 

“Very well, captain.” Sera straightened up, all professionalism again. It took them an hour to unload the people who wanted to get off and their crew went from twenty-five to a meager ten. Pryce in particular was one of the first people to skip ship. A few tried to offer some warnings and apologies, but they too didn’t last long.

They left for Damerun V within the day. It was a fashionable little colony on a rocky moon that orbited a luminous, gold-banded gas giant, and was one of the hottest spots in neutral space for the arts. There was something inspiring about the vast planet that perpetually filled the sky, according to travel brochures.

“‘... and spend your evenings on the beautiful beach, enjoying the food and drinks from the stylish Zone restaurant’,” Altaïr read out loud. “So your mad genius friend lives on an artist’s retreat?”

 

“He has always preferred the company of artists.” Ezio mustered the planet from the window of his quarters. They’d be arriving as soon as they found a suitable port to bribe. A record of their presence here would be a terrible idea. 

Maybe they could convince some of the colonists to join them on their mission, but he doubted it. Ezio was here for Leonardo’s expertise, and he hoped that his old friend could help. 

“I’d be grateful if he could just repair the implants and the chip.”

 

“I want to speak to him in private,” Altaïr said as he watched the colony grow closer and closer. He’d been a ship for fifty years before, but not like this. It was different when you could actually  _ fly.  _ “It’s not something against you, Ezio, but it is –  _ will be  _ – something very personal to me. I will tell you afterwards,” he added before Ezio could look too betrayed. “Trust me.”

 

Something that Ezio couldn’t be privy to? It was hard not to feel betrayed by the very notion. The whole thing between them had been built up simply because there’d been no more room for secrets, they’d been part of each, sunken and interwined in ways other people couldn’t even begin to understand. 

Ezio’s chest ached, hollow and wanting. He used to feel dissatisfied when Altaïr was just a warm breath on his soul. Now, he’d kill to get just that sensation back.

“I do trust you. But I don’t want you to get your hopes up. I don’t know if Leonardo is even interested in helping me.”

 

“I understand,” he said. “But still. Privately.”

They touched down at the docks and paid an astronomical fee to get inside without any whispers carrying back to Abbas. Ezio’s friend apparently lived in the heart of the city, so Altaïr expectantly cleared his throat, flashed one of his indicator lights at the handheld phone that he’d located for Ezio, and disconnected himself from the terminal.

With a little click, his chip popped out.

 

Ezio treated it like his newborn son, even if the crystal had definitely survived worse than being gently pushed into a phone. Still, he wasn’t taking any chances, though he did have a fairly sour expression as he disembarked the ship. Leonardo had responded shortly after the Firenze left the pirate station, but the answer had been formal and covert, revealing nothing of how he felt about the proposed help.

Damerun V was some sort of oasis for artists. Ezio could see them on the streets, sculpting, painting, sitting together in loose, colorful circles and passing drinks around, as well as some smoking inspiration. He suspected the laws on this world were a lot looser than strictly legal, and that contributed to attracting a high concentration of artists and whimsically minded people here.

Leonardo lived in a modest house, with a power glider out front and a huge mural covering the entrance. A young man with brown-red curls, clad in very little that was tastefully placed over his privates. He could practically feel the eyes of it follow him as he crossed the street to ring the bell. It was...subtle. Salai had always been happy to be Leonardo’s muse, and Ezio was glad to see that it had not changed.

 

The door swung open and the same young man that had donated his face to the mural outside stood in the doorway, his expression belligerent. It immediately cleared up, however, when he saw Ezio. His eyes flicked up-down over him before he slowly leaned to one side, shoulder against the frame, and smiled in a lazy way.

“Oh, are  _ you _ the friend that Leonardo said was coming? I didn’t know he kept such company.”

Music trickled out of the room behind him, along with the noise of power tools from further within.

 

“Hello, Salai.” Ezio remembered him too well, and he’d never been very fond of Leonardo’s chosen lover. Husband. Gold digger was the word Ezio never spoke out loud. It wasn’t his business how Leonardo spent his money, and he did know that somewhere inside, deep down, Salai cared for his friend.

Anyway, he was hardly in a position to judge.

“Is Leonardo home, then? It is urgent I see him.”

 

“Of course, he is,” Salai purred. Then he turned and yelled, in a voice surprisingly piercing for someone so small, “Leonardo! Your handsome friend is here!”

The power tools stopped. After a few seconds, another man joined Salai. His face was younger than it should have been, but Leonardo was still recognizable. “Ah, Ezio!” he said, his expression lightening. “I wondered if it really was you – what brings you here? Ah, Brotherhood business?” Saying this, he grew a little more guarded.

 

“Yes and no, old friend,” Ezio was fairly sure that Leonardo was experimenting again, especially with his face. How could he look younger than when they’d last seen each other?

No matter.

“It’s very complicated. May I come in? This is not something I can say out in the open.”

 

“Ah? Well, of course, Ezio. Any friend of mine is welcome here.” He and Salai stepped back to allow Ezio entry into their home. Today was a warm, sunny day, as it always was on a colony with artificial weather controls, and it made the interior of the home almost glow. The warm, gold-brown terracotta had been painted over with a variety of murals, and the furniture was old, sunken, and comfortable.

Leonardo waved Salai to the kitchen while he hustled Ezio deeper inside. “Come in, come in, I have something to show you. I’ve been working on this marvelous little device for one of my patrons – his name is Momus, you may have heard of him – who wanted to fly around a bit. It’s still only a prototype, but I have high hopes for it.” 

Salai tinkered around in the kitchen until he managed to muster up a glass of juice for the both of them and a bowl of sweets. He set it down on a side table, listened to Leonardo ramble, and gave Ezio a what-can-you-do sort of shrug.

“Mr. Leonardo,” Altaïr said from the handheld. “It is all very well and good, but we are here on a mission – Ezio recently defected and we need your aid.”

Leonardo’s words cut off abruptly and he paled a little. 

 

“That...well, thank you,” Ezio indicated the phone. He was going to have to have a word with Altaïr about the nature of delicately approaching the subject of his defection, but not now.

“This is why I’m here. I wanted to tell you more...constructively, but he is quite impatient.” Ezio put the phone on the table, keeping it between his hands. Any examination would be very unwelcome.

“Inside of this is a crystal chip, containing a Turing AI. I need him restored to...something more sturdy than crystal.”

 

“I – what?” Leonardo looked between Altaïr, Ezio, and then back again, confused. “I’m not sure –”

“Ezio,” Altaïr said calmly. “Step out of the room. I must speak to him alone. Please.” 

 

Ezio tried not to look or feel betrayed, but it was difficult when Altaïr demanded that he not be present. It was also a terrible exercise of trust for him to leave Altaïr’s chip in the care of another. Nevertheless, he’d promised. He wished he had not, but he did. To respect Altaïr’s choices was to acknowledge him as human, and Ezio never wanted to make him feel lesser than that.

“I will be waiting. Contact me as soon as you have need of me.”

It was stupid to pet a phone, but Ezio’s hand lingered for a moment anyway. 

 

“Don’t worry,” Altaïr said to him as Ezio lingered. “This won’t take long. Just trust me.”

He waited patiently until Ezio left before giving Leo his attention. If there ever was an instant in which a phone could round on a person, this was it. His voice grew intent as he spoke. “Mr Leonardo, I understand that you’ve partaken in illegal experimentation, hence your quiet retirement here away from legal spaces.”

“I –”

“Wait. I am not here to rebuke you. No. Your research is, in fact, of importance to me. I  _ want _ to be given a body and I think you can help me with that.”

For a moment, Leonardo struggled. Then he finally said, a little weak, “Are you  _ really  _ a Turing AI?”

“Indeed I am,” Altaïr said. “Have you ever had the chance to study one before?”

“Ah, no?” At this point, Leonardo sipped some of his juice and seemed to sturdy himself. He grew more interested. “So you are a Turing AI made from a person, but now you’d like a body. I cannot give you a biological one, Mr…?”

“Altaïr,” he answered. “I think there is much that we can discuss, if you’d allow it. Get comfortable, Leonardo.”

Leonardo got comfortable. Afterwards, Altaïr launched into the story of exactly what happened, how he got here, and what he knew. While the tale of betrayal interested him, it was the Apple – and the Precursors – that really got his attention. It took Altaïr over two hours to explain everything, by which time Leonardo begged a few minutes off to find Ezio.

“Goodness, Ezio,” he said once he was free of the AI’s fascinating stories. “You have the strangest friends.”

 

Ezio had done nothing more productive than mill around in the front of the house. Salai had given him something to drink and promptly swanned off to meet some ‘friends’, though he had given Ezio an approving once-over that Ezio didn’t know what to think of.

When Leonardo finally emerged, hours had passed. Ezio was up on his feet, unbidden and eager to retrieve his AI.

“I...this one is the strangest, I promise. So...can you help?”

 

“Well,” he said, laughing a little. “It depends on word from you, friend. Ezio – how much do you know of why I left the Brotherhood for my own works?” 

 

“As far as I’m aware, you left because of your affair with a student,” Ezio tried to sound absolutely neutral on the topic, “and because of damning blows to your reputation because of your research.”

It had happened while Ezio was deeply involved in his mission, without the spare time to investigate.

 

Leonardo cleared his throat. “Yes, that,” he said, spots of color blooming on his cheeks. “My work at the time, it was on AI. Specifically,  _ true _ AI. And you’ve brought me a Turing AI now. It’s all fascinating and what he wants from me is even more so, but I have to ask… Ezio, what  _ is _ your relationship to this… man?”

 

“Uh...” Ezio wasn’t often lost for words, but this was a question he couldn’t have anticipated. Why would it matter? Could Leonardo not study Altaïr enough to help repair him? Perhaps Leonardo was concerned about the permanence of a possible repair, that Ezio would be stuck carrying a stranger in his brain.

“He...and I are quite familiar. We’ve spent the better part of a year sharing my brain.”

Ezio tried very hard to keep a straight face, but the truth of the matter was itching under his skin. Would it be so terrible to tell Leonardo? Of all people, he would be the least likely to judge him for it. 

No, Ezio could not.

 

“Well,” Leo hedged, “it’s just… some of the things he said…”  _ He _ wasn’t going to be the one to say it, but he was certainly thinking it.

“Altaïr offered me several insights. He also told me about you. And him.” He coughed delicately. While Leo had never been one to shy away from such topics, it was another thing to have an AI bluntly tell him so and then go to receive confirmation from a friend he had not seen in years.

“Are you two… involved? Engaged in intercourse?”

 

Blood both left Ezio’s face and rapidly sought to join it. He paled, then flushed, wishing he could pull the hood completely over himself. He was never shy, but admitting to being intimate with an AI stuck in a chip...that was a level beyond what he’d consider unique.

“Leo, is that really...important right now?”

How could they be involved in  _ intercourse _ ?

“...He’s a chip. Just a crystal chip. But when he was in my implant, it...things got intimate, yes. I...he makes me feel things.” Fuck, he might want to die of embarrassment. Maybe he should have just picked Altaïr up and ran for it instead of stammering an awkward half-confession.

 

Leo nodded slowly, now avoiding eye contact. “I wanted to confirm that what he said was true. Well, you’re a grown man, you would know everything you need to do… ah.” He cleared his throat.

“I should get back to him. It’ll be another wait, but don’t worry, I’ve got things under control now.” With that, Leo fled before he could hear anymore details about just how sex between an AI chip and a human worked.

In the other room, alone, Altaïr sneezed. He looked up when Leo swept in and closed the door emphatically behind himself. “Alright,” the man said, a little breathless. “I’ll do it.”

“Really?” he asked, growing hopeful.

“Indeed,” Leo said. “I’ve never done anything like this before – it should be  _ fascinating.” _

 


	17. Chapter 17

The repairs were to take longer than a few hours. In fact, Leonardo sent Ezio back to his ship, promising to send word when it would be time to pick his companion up.

It unnerved Ezio that Altaïr would need such extensive repairs, but perhaps it was very delicate work that required patience.

Damerun offered him no distraction, however. The ship was dead and quiet and Ezio got no sleep at all. He spent a night tossing and turning, even going so far as to scan Damerun for any Brotherhood arrivals. 

Maddeningly, nothing was out of place. As if the world could simply expect him to function normally without Altaïr safely in his grasp.

 

-x-

 

When Leonardo sent the message for him to come back to the house, three days had passed and Ezio felt half-mad. He arrived swiftly, a little out of breath, and definitely not ready to admit that he’d been waiting as anxiously as a new mother.

“Leonardo. Is it time? Do you need me on a medical chair? I had the implants scanned, but if you want to make sure...”

 

“Oh, everything’s done,” he tittered. “And  _ very _ well, if I may say so myself. First thing’s first, however –”

With a flourish, he handed Ezio a little chip. It was Altaïr’s chip, though now the tiny cracks had been filled with little rivers of gold solder that kept the crystal together. It was beautifully done; the surface was glass-smooth and not a single scratch could be seen.

“He wanted you to have this before anything else.”

 

Ezio cradled the chip, happy to see it repaired. It felt a little heavier, perhaps Leonardo had reinforced it. 

“Grazie,” he pressed the chip to his implant, where it slotted in very easily. He could feel the implant connect, but there was no rush of warmth, no voice.

Ezio frowned.

“It’s not fixed, Leonardo. I can’t hear him.”

 

“Oh? Oh, not  _ that,”  _ he said, shaking his hand. “He’s not in there anymore, Ezio, don’t be foolish. It’s far too delicate for anything useful. In fact – Altaïr! Come on, he’s here!”

The back room door, which had been shut this entire time, swung open and revealed the figure standing behind it. He stepped forward – then paused and ducked his head to pass under the low frame. He was taller than Ezio by a few inches, but leaner – a swimmer’s physique to his bulk, while his hair was tawny and cut short. He was, in short, terribly handsome, with the kind of face that would have made a Leonardo of three decades younger swoon and make him his muse. His plain white clothes draped across broad, muscular shoulders that sloped down into a trim waist, and he was smiling in a way that was achingly familiar.

“Ezio,” he said as he walked closer. He wobbled a little before he caught himself and walked with new confidence, a steady, powerful kind of grace, until he drew close enough to put his hand on Ezio’s shoulder. Here, the sunlight was strongest and it reflected in his eyes, which were a deep, warm gold, like that of an eagle’s.

“I wanted to surprise you,” he said, the corner of his scarred mouth quirking up. He reached out and placed his other hand on Ezio’s cheek, tilted his face up. “So. Surprise.”

 

Leonardo could have shot Ezio in the face, or peeled off a mask and revealed himself to be Grandmaster Abbas, and Ezio would have been less surprised.

He was absolutely still when the curtain moved, and nothing but his eyes gave away any sign of life. His breath caught somewhere in his throat and couldn’t escape. He  _ knew _ , even before his head allowed him to accept. He knew that man. He knew his face, intimately, painfully well, from the golden eyes to the scarred lips.

He had just never seen it so lifelike, with an actual expression.

Was he standing in Leonardo’s house, or was he dreaming? He favored the latter heavily, because this was beyond what should be possible. Leonardo would have told him, Altaïr would have told him, they could not both be so cruel as to think this wasn’t going to give him a heart attack.

But Altaïr,  _ Altaïr _ , was solid to the touch, or rather, his hand felt solid on his shoulder, his palm felt warm on his skin.

“You...you...”

He couldn’t look away from the golden gaze, stunned into nothing but gawking wonder. He couldn’t raise a hand to touch him, not yet.

“Are you real...? Are you really...?”

 

Altaïr brushed his thumb over Ezio’s face – his  _ face _ , he was really  _ touching him _ – and his smile widened. “I am as real as you are,” he said. The hand on his shoulder dropped down, took Ezio’s hand, and raised it up to press against his chest. Altaïr had no heartbeat; instead, machinery whirred inside of his chest.

“Leonardo was removed from the Brotherhood because he experimented with AI. More specifically, with AI in  _ android  _ bodies. That was what I wanted to talk about with him in private. If it wouldn’t work out, then you would not know to be disappointed. If it did… well.” He leaned in until Ezio could feel his breath with every word, and pressed a kiss to his forehead, then his mouth. “Then it would be a  _ wonderful _ surprise.”

From next to them, where Leo stood, light flashed as he took a picture.

 

Ezio remembered how to breathe and how to glare at Leonardo for interrupting, but his attention immediately shifted back to Altaïr. Who was real, solid, warm in a slightly inhuman way, but real. His hands came up to cradle his head, stroke his cheek, and Ezio did not hesitate to lean up for a proper kiss, not the fleeting impression Altaïr had grazed him with before.

It had to sit a little in his head, the idea that this was real, but the body he pressed against was solid. The mouth he tasted was not quite human, but it didn’t matter, because it belonged to Altaïr. Ezio wanted every part of him, wanted to see, taste, explore all of this impossible luck.

 

Their kiss went from romantic to deep very, very quick, enough that Leo coughed a little before Altaïr’s hands could disappear anywhere.

“This is good,” he said, “and you are both very handsome men, but I am married to someone I love. Perhaps you should go now?”

“Why ever for?” Salai said, who’d come out of the back room after Altaïr. “Let them give us a show.”

“Salai!”

“Joking, joking.”

Altaïr pulled Ezio closer to him, marveling at the strength that his new body had as he lifted him up effortlessly. “Ezio,” he said, still looking at him. “Perhaps we should go back to the  _ Firenze.” _

 

Ezio was in no position to appreciate Leonardo’s help or Salai’s commentary, because his entire world consisted of Altaïr. Every moment that he was real was another wonder.

Only when he was hefted up as if he weighed nothing did life come back into him.

He registered dimly that they ought to be somewhere alone together, and the word ‘Firenze’ was enough of a clue as to where they should be moving. Ezio could not look away from Altaïr at all.

“We...we should go. To the ship.”

 

“Indeed,” he said, equally taken. Leo, who had been about to ask for payment, decided it was best to wait for another time. They left the house like that, grinning broadly, unable to walk straight.

Once they were out of sight, Altaïr pressed his hands on Ezio again, and ducked down to tuck his face into the crook of his neck, and inhaled deeply. He stayed like that for a few seconds, his hands running over Ezio, over his face, through his hair, until he laughed a little and kissed him again.

He had gone for so long without touch that he’d forgotten what it meant, what it  _ was,  _ to do it alone. He no longer had to rely on Ezio to do it and while it was lonelier to do it like this, it was also more satisfying.

“The ship seems very far,” he said at last, pulling away from him only a fraction.

 

Ezio chased after him, unwilling to allow space to form between them at all. The ship was at least twenty minutes away, and Ezio couldn’t imagine he’d make it half of that distance without simply stopping and holding Altaïr.

So he did it immediately, giving in to impatience and hunger and a need he never thought he could fulfill.

“I can...touch you. Feel you. I...can kiss you.” And he did, again, with the same, hungry desperation that had fuelled their kiss before, enough to make Leonardo blush.

 

“Not only that,” he said, a touch sly. “We can do more. You remember what we discussed before, haven’t you?”

Damerun V was not like Hedonia, but it was terribly, awfully close with its irresistible sunshine and bright terracotta houses. They stumbled through narrow, uneven pathways under lines of draping ivy and hanging flowers, kissed against the sunbaked brick, and for a moment, the rest of the universe didn’t seem to matter as much here.

Altaïr pressed Ezio against a wall and brushed his hair back – his  _ hair  _ – and gave him an intent look. “I want to feel you inside me.  _ Now,  _ Ezio.” 

 

“Now?”

Ezio wanted to laugh, it was ridiculous, but at the same time, it wasn’t. What Altaïr was implying...demanding, it fit every instinct they’d shared in his own body. It felt surreal to think that it was possible now.

Was it?

“Can you? I mean...you look human,” Ezio was not shy at all when it came to running his hands over what felt like skin and muscle, “you’re gorgeous, but are you fully, ah, equipped?”

 

“I know,” Altaïr said. “But I think _ you _ should find out for yourself.”

He wasn’t fully equipped yet, not in the sense that Ezio meant, but he was close enough. Leonardo had promised to keep working on it, so perhaps they could come back here again and see what new wonders he had worked up. Until then… his current state would be more than enough.

They were not anywhere near a bed, or even a decently covered up nook, and the docks were still nowhere to be seen. Somewhere farther away, someone wolf-whistled at the two of them.

“We should have arranged for something before this,” Altaïr murmured. Ezio was not in his ceramo-armor today, thankfully, so he could sneak his hand down and cup him through his pants. “This is all inconvenient.”

 

“You shouldn’t have sprung a surprise like this on me. I could have made arrangements,” Ezio muttered, but his breath was decidedly getting shorter. He was vaguely ashamed of how painfully hard he was, just after Altaïr had all but brushed over him. It was sinking in that this was real, as real as Ezio could ever hope for, and it was right here for him to enjoy. For him to take.

He sought Altaïr’s lips again, hungrily kissing when they weren’t speaking. The overwhelming urge to do everything at once was too hard to fight off, so he didn’t. His hands wandered above cloth, but they were eager to explore the layers.

“Altaïr,” he whispered, reverent as he stilled for a moment and just stared at Altaïr’s face. His actual face, that produced his actual voice. It was nothing short of fantasy and he could not help how his heart skipped around in his chest, “ _ ti amo _ .”

 

“ _ Ahbk ‘aydaan,”  _ Altaïr replied. Ezio was all around him, in his hand, on his mouth, and now,  _ now,  _ he remembered the most intoxicating part of being human. To touch. To be touched. He had missed it for so long that he’d forgotten to miss it, and now it was hitting him all at once like a runaway ship.

“You are the expert on securing accommodations for such things,” he said as he kissed down the side of his neck, breathing him in, his lips stinging from his stumble. He squeezed Ezio through the fabric of his pants, stroked him, and savored his stuttering breath. “What do we do?”

 

“Whatever it is, do not stop what you’re doing, or I will possibly die,” Ezio was being dramatic, but he did not care. He wanted this to continue, not a moment longer could he wait for Altaïr to be with him the way they never could before.

On Hedonia, they could easily have procured a hotel room. Ezio didn’t have the patience to learn the ways of Damerun, but fate presented him with a shortcut, just this once, in the form of an open veranda, peeking around the side of the wall currently behind him. 

“There. I don’t hear anyone inside.”

 

“Really?” Altaïr said, giving the veranda a doubtful look. “It’s terribly open, isn’t it?”

It was off the rest of the street and walled off by gauzy curtains, and Altaïr thought he saw a few couches scattered around, each one comfy and set in a wicker frame. Had he been in a more suitable state of mind, he would have insisted they make the rest of the trek over to the ship. Instead, Ezio’s cock throbbed in his palm and he ached inside, wanting.

He pressed the heel of his palm against Ezio and dragged his hand down, hard enough to make him groan, then pulled him towards the veranda. “Mm. Come on, before anyone asks.”

 

“What would they ask?” Ezio didn’t know and he didn’t care, he would have jumped off of a cliff right now if Altaïr asked for it, without question. He thought he might have grown out of the age where his cock made the majority of his decisions, but right now, it was making all of them.

The veranda was easy to climb into, and that was the only time Ezio was willing to separate from him. The nearest couch was the best destination, and Ezio got a kick out of being able to manhandle Altaïr down. The railing was high enough to shield them from view, so it wasn’t entirely ‘out in the open’.

Not that Ezio cared. His fingers scrabbled underneath Altaïr’s clothing, pulling it away, only to find all of his body covered in that smooth, fairly convincing skin imitation material. 

“You’re soft. And warm,” he whispered, lowering his mouth to taste what his fingers were exploring, “Do you feel this? Do you have sensors? I want to know everything.”

 

“I can feel –  _ mmph,  _ Ezio – everything,” he confirmed, dragging his blunt nails over Ezio’s scalp, still marveling at his hair. Sometimes, the smallest things were the greatest treasures. He leaned his back to let Ezio have more of his neck and then, after some working around, managed to toss his shirt off.

The synth-skin that Leo made for him had been grown from a combination of actual skin cells and plant matter, and it close, real close, to actual human skin. There were some areas where he was smoother, but it didn’t matter a damn when Ezio’s hot mouth was on him.

Altaïr returned his hand to his cock, but now that they were out of sight, he could wiggle his fingers into his pants until they brushed hot, solid flesh. He gripped him firmly, almost reverently, and felt a hot flush crawl all over his entire body.  

 

“We should do this with more romance, drama, I’m thinking candles,” Ezio would absolutely not stop now and arrange for ceremony. He was going to be with Altaïr right here and now, on some poor person’s veranda and there was nothing grand or proper about it.

Ezio worked on Altaïr’s skin. He would not leave marks on him, of course, but if Altaïr could feel him, then Ezio wouldn’t hold back. On any account.

“Pants. Off.”

 

It was hard to pump his hands over his cock and get undressed at the same time; Altaïr struggled, then laughed again when Ezio grew out of reach, and tugged his pants down, then kicked them away to land somewhere on the veranda. His underwear followed and he laid across the couch, legs splayed, unashamed, smirking faintly.

He levered himself up onto his elbows and said, “Unfortunately, Leo said there is only so much possible within only three days.” Altaïr lacked the internal organs and functions that biological humans had; he was all internal armor and machines – engines and computers – under his synthetic skin. Sex organs were similarly difficult to craft in seventy-two hours – it was only Altaïr’s strong urging that got him this far. It was here that his mechanical form was the most visible.

The skin ended just under his navel and smooth, gleaming metal continued seamlessly. Cables imitated muscles that moved and flexed just as the real ones did, and they trembled imperceptibly with the effort of keeping still. After his knees, his skin continued again to imitate humanity. He had no cock, not yet, but instead a silvery opening between his chrome thighs. 

 

“...Oh.” Ezio sat back a little, not as off-put as he would have thought. Altaïr didn’t look human there, but he also didn’t look mechanical, despite the visible cables and such. Ezio found himself adjusting fairly easily. He swallowed, running a hand over one chrome thigh.

“...would you feel it if I...” His voice trailed off as he ran his fingers over the opening. It probably didn’t work at all like a human body, but he could be enchanted by it nonetheless, because it was now a part of Altaïr. A part he could and would worship, if Altaïr wished for it.

 

Altaïr sighed as he felt his fingers carefully touch it. “I can,” he said as he laid back down again, his brow clearing. “You cannot imagine how many times I pushed Leonardo until he skimped out on the skin for this.”

Hours upon hours of work, really, all just to convince Leonardo that yes, this  _ was _ indeed very important for his new body. If it worked as he said it would, Altaïr would have to pay Leonardo back handsomely.

He hooked one leg over Ezio’s waist and dug his heel into his back. “Go on, I won’t break.” He cracked one eye open and looked at Ezio, hair mussed. “Be as rough as you please.”

 

Ezio drank in the sight of him. Altaïr looked splendid, sprawled out on the couch for Ezio to devour. An intense wave of possession and greed took him over. He wouldn’t be rough, but he wanted to consume this very moment and melt through Altaïr’s synthetic skin, to be one with him. His hand slipped back after feeling how tight the opening was. Well, there was one benefit to this whole synthetic business.

His throat was dry as he fumbled himself free of his clothing. They could make every night after this romantic, endless explorations of each other, he silently promised. But right now, they’d been apart for too long. He needed this, right now, he needed to be closer, inside. 

Guiding himself in was very easy. It was just the one opening, and it welcomed him readily. Ezio couldn’t look away from Altaïr’s face, his gaze trapped helplessly between heated lust and soft admiration. He held his breath as he slid home and found Altaïr a curious mixture of slippery and too smooth. It was very different from a human being, but it didn’t matter; it felt good.

 

Altaïr wasn’t sure what he’d expected. Perhaps Ezio would take his time, or he’d kiss him some more; he had not expected him to simply thrust home and open him up with his cock. Altaïr’s head ducked down, bent towards Ezio, and his shoulders tensed, bunched up, as he drew his knees in. His fingers curled and he gripped the fabric of the couch tightly as his breathing grew suddenly harsh.

His first thought was:  _ Leonardo really did  _ **_not_ ** _ skimp on this.  _ Then it was crushed aside by the feeling of Ezio inside of him, thick and welcome, and Altaïr pushed his hips up to meet him halfway. God, but he had missed this – the delicious friction of someone inside him, the feeling of being stretched wide so suddenly, and the want, no, the  _ need  _ to fuck until the sun burnt out.

“ _ Raja,  _ Ezio!” he barely managed to choke it out as he reached up and grabbed a fistful of his ponytail to anchor himself.

Ezio had been unleashed upon an experience he hungered for, and Altaïr made the mistake of telling him everything was alright. Over a year of pining hand solidified into naked need for Ezio, and his hands travelled to Altaïr’s hips to hold him in place as he moved back and thrust forward again.

It was good. It was mind-numbingly good. Ezio didn’t need to speak Altaïr’s language to understand him. They both needed this, that much was obvious. 

“ _ Amore mio, _ ” he muttered, almost distracted by the way Altaïr’s mouth opened to gasp for breaths that he didn’t need. This was amazing, and Leonardo had done God’s work in three days. The man would be showered in whatever currency he needed. He’d given Ezio and Altaïr something tangible and real.

No amount of synthetic skin or cables would put a dampener on that.

Ezio bowed his head forward, compelled by the way Altaïr pulled on him, as he drove into Altaïr, deeper, harder, needing more with every second.

 

The couch squeaked despairingly under them as Ezio thrust into him, and Altaïr scrabbled for purchase on him, his back arched, trying to catch his breath and failing. Every thrust made him tense up as whatever sensors inside him lit up like lightning, and drove the air out of him. He didn’t respirate, and yet he felt like he wasn’t getting enough oxygen.

Everytime Ezio sunk into his body, it was a reminder that this was real, that this was happening. It had seemed impossible only a week ago, to have Ezio inside him like this, but here they were, fucking with wild abandon on a stranger’s veranda. Altaïr reached up to kiss Ezio and groaned as he pushed deeper, clenched around him, and finally managed to pull him down by his hair.

They kissed like that, teeth clashing, too hungry to be careful, Altaïr’s knees locked around his waist to hold him in place.

 

After a feverish few minutes, Ezio slowed down. It reflected in every part of him, but the kissing was the most obvious sign. He stayed with Altaïr’s lips, chased his tongue and coaxed it gently, still drinking in the sight of him. Ezio’s hands came up to caress his face, to trace over a jawline he knew so well, and yet, had never touched before. The heat between their bodies was scorching, but Ezio revelled in it. The thin layer of sweat on his skin meant that every touch of wind became a cool breeze, and the additional sensations only heightened what he was already indulging in.

“This is...beyond what I could dream,” he whispered against Altaïr’s lips, not sure if he wanted to come or cry, both out of happiness and sheer realization of all of this. It was real. Altaïr was real, here, and it was not temporary.

It struck Ezio like lightning and he stilled, inches away from the soft, golden gaze he’d admired all of his life.

“My  _ love _ .” He kissed Altaïr’s forehead, his cheeks, his nose, trying to find a balance between the white-hot need to fuck until he reached oblivion and the sweet understanding of being united with Altaïr for good.

 

“I don’t know what you were meant to be when I saw you in the Apple,” Altaïr said, hazy, with far too much friction and yet not enough all at once, “but maybe it chose to be kind to me for once. Chosen one,” he said, and he smiled as he kissed Ezio back, both tender and needing.

It was as close to perfect as they could be. Both of them were aware that the moment would not last for long, but somehow it didn’t matter; the urgency of their private war was not nearly so immediate when Altaïr could feel like this, blissed out and touch-drunk. When their lips parted, he took the chance to use his newfound teeth on his skin. He followed the column of his neck, where his Adam’s apple bobbed with every swallow, and sucked a purpling bruise there: another reminder that he was real.

 

They could spend an entire night just touching. Ezio didn’t know when he’d lost track of time or place, but he was content with it. Finally, finally they could do this. Even with the momentous task still before them, this was a moment of bliss.

Ezio could ignore the vaguely synthetic smell, the chrome, the cables...this was Altaïr. As much of him as Ezio ever could have, and he was grateful.

He resumed the thrusts, but they were slower now, slow and deep and intentional.

“If the Apple meant for this, it has good taste.”

 

He shuddered as Ezio changed up his strokes, feeling incredibly, impossibly close to him, even a little out of control. Every nerve was on fire, singing triumphantly, and it wasn't just the sex; it was about being able to clutch Ezio and breathe him in, about flexing his legs and revelling in the thick, muscled body between them.

“It's the,” he gasped, hands running down the scarred expanse of his back, “little things –  _ mm.” _

God, he was getting close. It had been a sensation he could only  _ imagine  _ for the past year –  _ fuck,  _ the past fifty years – and now it was in his grasp. The way Ezio moved in and out of him felt incredible, unbelievable. Obscene. 

 

Ezio could do this for hours, he decided. Altaïr felt amazing around him, beneath him, but he wasn't sure if it really mattered that he was soft and warm even where metal was exposed, or if it was just the unbelievable fact that he had a body they could do this with that fueled Ezio's passion. Either way, his thrusts were languid and his eyes glued to Altaïr's expression, drinking in the sight of him. He wanted to burn it into his memory, he wanted to see this every time he closed his eyes.

“You're beautiful... The murals do you no justice,  _ amore. _ ” he wanted to babble endless praise into Altaïr's ear, hold him for hours, fuck him for days. The world was welcome to disappear for a while, Ezio deserved this. 

He could keep going, or he could come, it would put no dampener on the ache of happiness in his chest.

 

“Flatterer,” he accused, but it wasn’t unconvincing when his voice catched one another gasp. Altaïr’s hands slid back until he could grab Ezio’s shoulders for a handhold and he hung on, ears filled with the sound of Ezio panting against him and the protesting couch under their bodies. 

Orgasm, or whatever approximation he could experience now, was ultimately unexpected. Altaïr dug the balls of his heels into the couch when he felt it coming, and tightened around Ezio, rolled his hips into him, caught up in the moment. His eyes flew open and he stared up at Ezio’s face, who looked so adoring and awed that it was almost embarrassing. His breath stuttered and he bit the inside of his cheek.

“Ezio…” he groaned gutturally and he pushed his hand into his hair, tugged him down for a kiss, still clenching and grinding around the waves of pleasure.

 

Ezio had not expected Altaïr to be remotely capable of anything like an orgasm. Leonardo had done holy work and it was right here for Ezio to enjoy. He kissed Altaïr with the same reverence he regarded him with. He couldn’t dispel the notion that this was all far too good to be true, and someone was going to yank him out of podsleep at any moment.

His body disagreed, finding the situation very real and very much in his favor, because he teetered on the edge of his own climax and had little reason to hold on, other than to fully absorb how Altaïr looked when he came. Another image he was going to commit to memory. Should Altaïr ever return to the form of a chip in Ezio’s head, he’d be embarrassed by how much of Ezio’s brain he now occupied.

The kiss was indulgent and languid and perfect. Ezio didn’t pull away when he came, he just let his groan drown in Altaïr’s mouth.

 

They kissed for a few seconds like that, lazy after coming, until Altaïr’s ears caught faint rattling coming from the house. It got closer and closer until the the curtains over the window that overlooked the veranda swished back. Over Ezio’s shoulder, Altaïr made an unfortunate moment of eye contact with an old woman with greying curls and a knit shawl over her mumu dress. She gasped when she saw them, two naked men sprawled over her couch, and her hand flew up to her mouth before she shut the curtains.

“We should,” Altaïr said, swallowing, “really leave.”

The curtain opened again. It was the old woman again, though now she had spectacles on.

Altaïr shifted and grimaced when he felt something wet trickle down his thigh. “Really?”

 

“...You can’t blame me for that,” Ezio tried weakly as he pulled back. He would not apologize for the mess he’d made of Altaïr’s new body, and he bore plenty of bright, red marks too. Those artificial teeth were pretty strong, and apparently, Altaïr enjoyed giving out bruises.

The old lady had Ezio move a little faster, pulling clothes back on that had been discarded without care earlier.

“To the ship. We should get going to the ship.”

 

Ezio could just roll off and get his clothes. Altaïr had to find a way to both avoid eye contact with the old woman  _ and _ not stain her couch while also dressing himself. He made Ezio fetch his clothes and then pulled them on hastily while the veranda door rattled.

When he stood up, more come dribbled down. Altaïr stilled, closed his eyes, took a deep breath, and tried to not think about how he was supposed to clean that mess up from his metallic parts. Before they could leave, the door opened.

“Wait,” said the old woman, taking a few steps out, “are you the gigolos I rented?”

 

“No,  _ signora _ , definitely not.” Ezio just barely kept himself from laughing. No wonder the woman had not been screaming and chasing them off. It suited Leonardo to live in a colony full of deviants.

“Come on. Let’s go.”

He felt vaguely bad about the couch, but fair was fair, the woman did get a good eyeful of him and his beautiful lover in full action.

 

They left the old woman, but not before Altaïr pulled out what he hoped was enough money for cleaners and left it on the window sill. This time, the walk to the ship took much less time, though Altaïr stepped a little gingerly (and stared disapprovingly at Ezio whenever he seemed like he would say something).

When he boarded, however, Seraphina stopped them.

“And who is this new passenger, captain?” she gave Ezio an expectant look.

 

Ezio had a hard time letting go of Altaïr at any point, and he didn’t do so now. Even with Seraphina’s sharp gaze on them, he couldn’t bring himself to move his hand away from Altaïr’s new body. 

He smiled, a little serenely, before considering a lie and deciding against it. No more. He’d promised his crew to stay on the level, in a manner of speaking.

“Lieutenant, I’d like you to meet Altaïr ibn-La’Ahad.”

He could have added a dozen descriptions, but all of them were flattering and embarrassing and unnecessary. His adoring stare told them all, silently.

 

Sera looked between him and Altaïr, and said, “Wasn’t he a computer chip? AI?”

“I still am,” he said, raising a hand. “This is an android body.”

“Androids are illegal.”

“Not in Brotherhood space. Unauthorized research on androids is illegal, but well –” He spread his hands. “I think we have greater problems to worry about, Lieutenant.”

Seraphina looked at the two of them, as if trying to bore a hole through them with her eyes. Then she carefully, delicately leaned forward and sniffed.

“I think,” she said, looking at Ezio and his rumpled ponytail, her every word dripping with meaning, “I understand.”

If androids could’ve flushed, Altaïr would have. Instead, his face grew a little more stoic as Sera turned and marched away.

 

“Well...that was a lot less painful than it could have been.” Ezio was in a stellar mood, despite the piercing gaze of his first officer. He didn’t care if Seraphina and the rest of his tiny crew knew exactly what he was doing with Altaïr in his android body. Ezio felt on top of the world right now, and he was not coming down anytime soon.

“You have to tell me more, amore. Is there another chip? Do you have human strength? Felt like more, earlier. We need to get you some armor printed, and some clothes, and then, maybe, we should retire to my quarters. You don’t need fuel, do you?”

 

“There is no other chip,” Altaïr said as they walked into the ship. “I am entirely contained in this body – though I could, technically, copy myself until there is more of me. But that would become very messy, I think.” He had enough on his plate as it were; dealing with a copy of himself would bound to be a fresh headache for everyone involved. 

They reached Ezio’s quarters, at which point Altaïr began to strip again. He needed to wash. “Leo already had a shell of my body available, it was only the details he needed to add. I am stronger than you. Probably faster. Definitely tougher.” 

Altaïr folded his shirt and laid it on the bed, but his pants and underwear he kicked aside for cleaning. Before he went into the bathroom, he took Ezio’s hand and pressed it to his chest again. “Feel that? That is my internal power generator. Don’t ask me what makes it run, I don’t know.”

 

“Then I will ask Leonardo when I see him again. I want to know everything about you.” Ezio stepped closer, keeping his hand on Altaïr’s chest. There was no heartbeat, but he could get used to the silent, minute vibrations. They were the sign of Altaïr being real and alive, in a way that Ezio could accept wholeheartedly. Anything to keep him in this bliss. 

“And I suppose you do not get tired, do you?”

He was already warm to the idea of repeating what had happened on that old woman’s veranda. Here, in his quarters, there were no curious onlookers.

 

It took Altaïr a moment to catch his meaning, but when he did, he tilted his head with a small smirk. “No,” he said. “Not ever. No matter how much stamina you may have.”

He leaned forward and kissed Ezio briefly. “Undress. Join me in the bathroom.”

 

“Yes, sir.” Ezio smiled, a fool in love, ready to shed his clothing and responsibilities for the night, or possibly the next week.

 


	18. Chapter 18

They did not have a week, but Ezio spent the next three days completely tangled up in his quarters. From bed to bathroom was the furthest distance he travelled. Communications were limited to his terminal and food was the only real break he needed. Sleep was a rare commodity, but it did take him eventually. Held in Altaïr’s arms, he found it with ease. Exhausted, happy, sated...those were not conditions he took for granted.

 

Androids could not be sore, not if they didn’t want to be. Yet, Ezio was clearly testing the upper boundaries of just how much he could do for the past few days. Only human limitations and sleep kept him from burying his cock in Altaïr for another hour or so.

Ezio snored softly in his ear as Altaïr silently read a book. It wasn’t as efficient to do it this way, but he enjoyed the slower, more human way. It forced his thoughts to slow down a little – a blessing when he had too much to think about.

They had a blissful kind of schedule set up now, but it wasn’t going to last. They had too much to do, too many enemies waiting for them. In between the fucking and the kissing, they hadn’t talked about that when they, in fact, really, really needed to. To just clear the air up, at least.

A little timer that Altaïr had set beeped for him silently. Six hours. Ezio never slept more than that, not after the life he lead. Altaïr set the datapad aside and kissed his forehead.

 

Ezio was a light sleeper by force, training and life experience ruling over comfort and bodily needs. That didn’t mean he woke up bright and alert when he didn’t have to, however, which was why he moved sluggishly right now as he opened his eyes. Altaïr was right there, still real, and a sleepy smile crawled over Ezio’s face.

“I will never tire of waking to you,” he muttered, eyes almost drifting shut again.

 

“I should hope not, considering we haven’t even spent a full week together yet.” Altaïr slid his arm out from under Ezio, pulled away from his grasping arms despite his sleepy grumbling, and ran his hand down his side appreciatively. There was really something painfully attractive about Ezio and the body that his life had given him.

Such thoughts made a dull heat surge inside of him and Altaïr sighed, considering, before he made up his mind. Just a little more. What could it hurt?

He got up onto his knees, then swung a leg over Ezio until he straddled him. Most men were hard upon waking; Ezio was no different. Altaïr reached down and stroked him until he was hard, and then carefully aligned them so he could sink down on him. He was still wet from before – perks of a body that didn’t dry like a human one – and he didn’t have to work hard to fit him in. His cock filled him up and Altaïr half-moaned, half-exhaled, and rolled his hips a few times until he took all of him, his thighs touching Ezio’s sides.

 

Ezio thanked the universe for giving him Altaïr, because this was more than he ever deserved. He woke up fairly quickly with his lover squeezing around his dick like that, and the sight that greeted him was to die for. Not even in his wildest teenage fantasies could he have imagined Altaïr like this, though he did recall a few shameful nights, jerking it to the memory of golden gaze mural. 

This though, this was much, much better. Ezio’s hands ran over Altaïr’s thighs and to his waist, idling there to appreciate the craftsmanship of this perfect, android body.

“You spoil me,  _ tesoro, _ ” Ezio praised, voice low and soft, “I’ll never enjoy a human body fully again.” It was both a joke and a promise, because Ezio was pretty sure that he had the love of his life, throning on his hips right now, and he would not stray away from Altaïr if he had a choice.

 

Altaïr flashed him a quick smirk before he concentrated again. The past three days had been a crash course on what Ezio liked – and what worked for him – so it didn’t take him long to set up a rhythm that had both of them gasping and bucking. Altaïr leaned over and pinned Ezio down with some of his inhuman strength, and rode him mercilessly until he came, head bowed, Ezio’s name on his lips.

If he looked up now, he knew, he’d see Ezio awestruck all over again, as if the last several days hadn’t sunk in yet. He couldn’t blame him; sometimes, Altaïr wasn’t really sure if this was all real. Fucking Ezio was perhaps a way to affirm it. There was nothing more visceral than holding a man down and riding his dick until he prayed.

Pleasure crackled over his skin, making him shiver, but that was the thing about being an android – he didn’t have to stop. 

 

It wasn’t difficult to make Ezio come like this, and there was no reason to hold back when pleasure called so readily. Ezio could never bring himself to look away from Altaïr, even if the man was closing his eyes or pressing his head down. For Ezio, the wonder of having Altaïr present in his life had not waned. He wanted to tell him, over and over again how it made him feel alive and whole. Like all the downfalls in his life had lead to this beautiful reversal of karma.

But Altaïr didn’t much like it when Ezio went off on an emotional rant or confession, swift to silence him with kisses and his wonderful new body.

So Ezio said nothing and held him close, rewarding Altaïr’s efforts with a soft moan and whisper of his name. Maybe they should spend another day, just like this.

 

If they lived in a perfect world, they could have spent their days like this. But they did not, so Altaïr urged Ezio to finish with a few more cants of his hips, and then rolled off of him with a sigh. He immediately felt empty.

“We must talk,” he said evenly a few minutes later. He didn’t need to breathe, so he couldn’t sound out of breath. Anything else was just leftover human impulse. “About what must be done.”

 

“What, really? You’re not going to let a man catch his breath after blowing his mind?” Ezio threw an arm over his face as he enjoyed the last few seconds of pleasure trickling through his body. Three days was not enough to satisfy his needs, no matter how spent he was each time he dropped off to sleep. There was no drifting involved, not when he pushed himself to the limits, not wanting to waste a second of time with Altaïr.

 

Altaïr rolled onto his side. Though his tone was sober, his face was fond, and he laid his hand across Ezio’s chest. “If I do,” he said, “I may not be able to stop myself. So yes, we must do this now.”

He fell quiet, pensive, before he continued. “We are soon upon Brotherhood space and the next half of my mission –  _ our _ mission – will be upon us. As enjoyable as these past days have been, I think we need to prepare. And have this talk, before we are too busy.”

He scanned his handsome face, his warm brown eyes. God, but he could spend hours just admiring Ezio like a painting. He’d devoted hours of time to exploring his body but it didn’t feel like enough. After so many years alone, it probably never would. A younger him would have been driven to distraction by Ezio. Even now, he still felt a hot stir inside him, like a perpetually burning coal. If he had a heart, it would have been twisting right now.

“I love you,” he said, utterly serious and deeply earnest. “Possibly even more than I loved anyone else. But either of us – or both – could die very soon.”  

 

“That is not a possibility I can accept. I only just got you,” Ezio sat up a little. This topic was too serious and terrible to have so shortly after an orgasm, but Altaïr was allowing for no more wallowing. A damn shame that the man had such a prime directive to follow.

The Brotherhood could float off into dark space right now, Ezio’s heart was full of desire and fulfilled lust and he’d be damned if he filled it up with anger again.

“How can you say that in the same breath? And you will not die. You can’t. If anything, you have to rebuild what Abbas has destroyed. There is no one else for it.”

Ezio said a silent farewell to his honeymoon of three days and sobered up, meeting Altaïr’s gaze with reluctant determination.

“And I love you too. I won’t lose you.”

 

“Denial is not a good habit to maintain,” Altaïr said. “It leaves you unprepared for reality. I said this before and I shall say it again – death has always been a possibility for us. Do not shy from it.”

When he saw Ezio’s expression cloud further, Altaïr relented a little and reached down to pick up Ezio’s hand. He raised it to his lips and pressed a kiss to his scarred knuckles. “But I think we are both very hard to kill. But if I die, Ezio… please. Carry on my work for the love you bear me.”

 

“You should know, I don’t do well with losing loved ones, Altaïr.” Ezio’s mood was dropping very quickly, from the happy bliss of waking up with his lover to the pressing reality of their mission. 

The last time Ezio had even taken a real lover had ended disastrously too, and Cristina’s blood would always be on his hands. Remembering her now took away the last of Ezio’s cheer and his expression clouded heavily.

“Maybe we should make a dormant copy of you, somewhere safe. Just in case.”

 

“No,” Altaïr said, his brow creasing. “No copies of me, no matter how harmless it may seem now.” He had struggled enough with his humanity during those early years. How would he fare being the back-up of a back-up? He wouldn’t be happy.

“But this brings me to another point. I’m going out into the field with you.”

 

“I can’t stop you from that. You’re definitely stronger than me. And as much as I enjoy being held down, I’m not foolish enough to try and argue with you on that case. Though I will still insist that you at least wear ceramo-armor. You might not die if you get shot, but it would be a downright sin to ruin Leonardo’s good work. Just because it is synthetic does not mean I value your body any less.”

Much the opposite. Ezio would rather take a bullet or a blade himself before he let anyone burn or ruin any part of the new temple where he worshipped.

 

“I’ll be appropriately armored,” he promised, relieved that Ezio would not argue about this. “And a shot could kill me, if the gun is big enough.”

He glanced down at their bodies. His metal middle stood out in stark contrast to the rest of his olive skin, still a little too smooth to seem perfectly human; once this was all done, he could find Leonardo again, and ask him to finish his work. Maybe he wouldn’t. He’d see.

_ “Captain,”  _ Sera’s voice chimed in.  _ “We have a problem. Masyaf’s planetary shields have been raised. If we try to go in, we’ll be destroyed.” _

Altaïr met Ezio’s eyes. “I think that's our cue to get up,” he said.

 

“I would like to disagree with you, but I cannot.” Ezio sighed, deeply, profoundly unhappy as he rolled out of bed. Dressing in anything seemed like a chore and a waste around Altaïr and his new body, but they did have a mission that Ezio had barely recalled during the past nights.

“Wear one of my armors until we get you one. Better than that bedsheet Leonardo dressed you in.”

They would fit well enough, even if Altaïr was taller and thinner than Ezio himself.

 

“Already on it,” he said as he pulled on one of Ezio’s under suits. The fit was a little off but not badly enough that he needed to change. The last piece of ceramo-armor clicked into place. With Ezio’s armor on, they looked eerily similar.

They made their way over to the bridge, where the crew double-takes once again upon seeing Altaïr. Most of them didn't ask who he was, however; it was pretty obvious.

“Captain,” Sera said. “Look.”

New Assyria was covered in a shimmering gold shield of light that obscured the planet below. It was nothing like Abbas should have been capable of. “He did this with the Apple,” he murmured, stepping close to Ezio.

“We tried sending a probe,” she said. “It blew up.”

 

“Then we shouldn’t try to breach it.” Ezio regarded the screen. No shield that he knew of looked like that, shimmering and golden and ethereal. Of course Abbas would have learned of his escape, and now, he feared retaliation. One thing was clear; getting back to Masyaf would pose a bigger challenge than he expected.

“Do we have readings of it? Do we know what kind of energy is used to power it?”

Undoubtedly, it was the Apple, but this barrier was real, which meant it had to be made of something. Something had to power it. And it couldn’t be impenetrable.

 

“We’re working on getting readings for it,” Sera said. “But this is an Assassin ship, not a Science vessel. If this is indeed an exotic effect, we won’t get very far.”

Altaïr walked towards the viewscreen to examine the shield in greater detail. Lydia zoomed it in for him without saying anything. His brow creased.

“Ezio,” he said, his voice odd. “Come here.”

 

No one questioned Altaïr’s presence on the bridge, or his lack of formal address for their captain. Ezio trailed after him, not sure what else they could gain from a visual. The shield didn’t look to have any dark spaces or weak spots, a consistent, golden energy barrier.

He came up beside Altaïr and gently touched his shoulder, unable to keep himself separate from the man. Three days was not enough to cement the notion that his love was now inside of a body and walking around. 

“What? Have you seen this before?”

 

“Not quite,” he said. He leaned in close so that their conversation would not be heard. “Do you remember what I said before, about the second vision?”

 

“Yes? That you saw things that are not there for others.” Ezio did recall something vague like that, but had been some time ago. Second sight, Altaïr had called it. Something to be gained by those in close contact with the Apple.

“Do you see something else?”

 

“I do.” To his eyes, the universe was a great sea of formless greys; only the barrier had any color. It was a fearsome hue of gold with the strongest concentration over Masyaf. From there on, its protection thinned over the planet the further it got from the source.

“I will not describe it. You must see it for yourself.” Altaïr turned to Ezio. He, unlike his blue-tinted colleagues, was as golden as the shield. “Reach for it, Ezio.”

 

Reach for it? Altaïr was at least a little mad if he thought that would be an easily followed instruction. Ezio breathed in deeply and squinted at the screen, but that didn’t accomplish anything at all. It continued to look the way it had done before, with the golden shimmer over the planet, the dark space, the distant stars, the red hue of Masyaf’s defenses beneath the gold- Wait.

Ezio opened his eyes properly again, concentrating on the red. The rest of the world took on a blue haze, but the barrier burned brighter than before. Masyaf was filled with points, too far to make out in detail. Altaïr beside him was a softer gold than the barrier, warm and glowing. The bridge was blue, and when Ezio turned a little, his crew was blue too.

“...I see a lot of blue here, and a lot of red there. Is that what you mean?”

 

“That’s the second sight of those who looks into the Apple,” Altaïr said, satisfied. He blinked and color returned to the world again. “The closest explanation I can give for it is that the Apple changes you once you look. I have yet to find out if it is hereditary.”

He looked back at the shields again. “Lieutenant Picquery, we’ll not be able to penetrate the shields like this. Take us away, if you would.”

She didn’t answer. Instead, she looked to Ezio in askance.

 

“He is right. We need to regroup and find a way we can get through that thing.” Ezio blinked twice to have his vision return. He’d have to ask Altaïr at some later time what the second sight revealed. Intentions, was it? That would be an extremely useful tool. But if it was given to all who touched the Apple, then Abbas would have it too.

Huh. Ezio never actually touched the Apple. He’d only seen it, had been under its spell, but he never made contact. It was something worth considering.

“Can’t blast through it. Not with the cannons on this ship, anyway.”

 

After a short pause, she said, “Helmsman, take us away. To…?”

Altaïr peered at the shields a little longer before he straightened up and said, “To the third quadrant. Unoccupied space. Find a system rich in minerals. After that, it’s your pick.”

The helmsman, a hastily-promoted Lieutenant Riley, looked up at Sera. She gazed at Altaïr for a few seconds before nodding. Riley reached over to set their course – without Pryce and Hale, Riley had to double as both navigator and helmsman.

The little Assassin ship wheeled away from New Assyria and pointed her slim nose into the black cosmos. Then, like a thrown dart, they soared through a gate and away from Masyaf.

“We need something powerful to break through that shield,” Altaïr said. “Something big. I’d suggest using tractor beams to throw meteors at it weren’t for the planet.”

 

“That would annihilate more than Masyaf. There has to be another way. I want to save the Brotherhood, not wipe it out.”

Ezio considered Altaïr’s words and was struck by a memory of high halls of machinery and endless batteries of ammunition. He knew what kind of firepower this would require, but the problem in obtaining it was beyond the scope of their influence.

Well, his influence. He stared at Altaïr for a long moment.

“...The  _ Burning Cross _ could probably take down that barrier.”

 

“I know,” Altaïr said, a little grim. “That’s where we’re going.”


	19. Chapter 19

Finding the  _ Burning Cross,  _ however, was easier said than done. Maria hadn’t survived this long because she was careless with her lynchpin ship. She hid most of the time and emerged when she was certain of victory. Otherwise, her bristling fleet of cobbled-together pirate vessels handled the actual gruntwork.

Altaïr laid in bed with Ezio’s back pressed against his chest. He hugged him, half his face in his loose hair, and said, “The chances that she’ll kill us or listen to us is roughly fifty-fifty. Seventy-thirty if she’s in a poor mood.”

He ran his knuckles over one of the bigger scars on Ezio’s chest, then kissed the back of his warm neck. Despite his affection, Altaïr was distracted. Troubled. “I don’t know her as I used to.”

 

It was difficult to grasp the concept of death when you were being held by your lover in bed. Ezio was too relaxed to be anxious, fingers playing over Altaïr’s hands. He wished they could live in complete isolation, just with each other, for a good ten years. After that, he might be willing to face the world and its problems again.

But the world was a pushy bitch nipping at their heels and there was no more time for idling and sequestering themselves away.

“Perhaps seeing you like this will lighten her up. It’s different when there is a face to the voice, more than a chip.”

He remembered Maria’s wrinkled face and doubted his own words. He brought Altaïr’s hand up to kiss each knuckle. Synthetic skin was softer than human skin, he noted silently.

“She called me a fool for trusting you back then. I do not want to think of what she’d say now.”

 

“She may just shoot us out of space,” Altaïr said, a little unhappy. “I am… hoping that this time, it’ll be the opportunity to tear down Abbas that will tempt her, and not friendship.”

Pirates needed to be greedy to survive, and Abbas must have so much misbegotten wealth hidden away. But would that be enough?

“I wish I knew what she was angry about. Whether I am like this, or because I failed.”

 

“Or maybe it was something else.” Ezio threaded their fingers together as he considered what he remembered of the meeting with Maria. The way she’d spoken to him then, the bitterness in her voice, in her face...he severely doubted it was just a failure of moral goals that had turned her into a sour, old pirate.

“Your involvement with her. Did it end, or did you just disappear? Perhaps she is angry you did not reach out to signal her. A woman like that probably tried to find you, especially if it was Abbas who claimed you to be missing.”

 

Altaïr’s fingers paused. Then he said, “Are you saying that she might be angry that I didn’t… go to find her? There was very little I could do at the time, Ezio. If I could have reached out to her, I would have.”

But that wasn’t right, was it? It wasn’t the reason why Maria would resent him.

“I think,” he said after a few seconds, “that she… never quite understood my devotion to the Brotherhood.”

 

“I think that a woman expects more than to be in second place behind an ideal, Altaïr.” To Ezio, it was almost painfully clear. Maria didn’t care enough about the Brotherhood to try and correct it after Altaïr’s disappearance. Malik had died for it, but Maria? Cut all ties when Altaïr was gone. 

And Ezio had known plenty of women in his life. He had loved a few, too, and none of them could take second place to something else. It was a given, or it should be, that a lover you intend to keep bore equal importance. Ezio had known that, and it had caused him to lose Cristina. He had not dared to take on another after that, but with Altaïr, it had only been a question of time.

“I suppose a man, too. But her devotion to the Brotherhood...was it for your sake, or for her own?”

 

He moved to answer, then hesitated. After a beat, he said, “I… don’t actually know. She was a Templar when we met. I convinced her to join us. Maybe I was the reason she stayed at all.”

The more he thought about it, the more complicated it became. Altaïr wished that time could have stopped after he died, but it didn’t work that way. He remembered Maria’s words to him, now nearly a year ago.

_ I kept living. You stayed the same. _

It was true… and it was also not. Because Altaïr didn’t love her, not like he thought he did.

“We never broke it off,” he said.

 

“Ah. Then it appears the answer is far more simple than intentions and ideals,” Ezio took a moment to turn around, pulling his hand out of Altaïr’s so he could place both on Altaïr’s face, gently stroking his jawline and cheeks.

“I’m not sure if an apology is nearly enough, but it might be a step towards some communication. We need her assistance, and, if I’m not wrong, she needs more closure.” His gaze was warm, and he tried not to think of an ancient woman intent on experiencing the highs of youth again. The smile tugged at his lips anyway. “Or something else, but I have to firmly stand in the way of that.”

 

“I think we’re well past that point,” Altaïr said, smiling in return. “If I offered, she would shoot me, then you, and then our ashes.” It would be a gesture of pity. Maria deserved more than his pity. She had, against all odds, been the only to survive out of the three of them, after all. She was probably the smartest in doing so.

“This is all hinged on her not simply shooting us out of space the moment she sees us.”

 

“Well, any ideas on how we might approach her without the distinct possibility of death? I don’t really know what to get a woman in a floating fortress with a fleet of pirates at her disposal.” Ezio couldn’t help himself, he had to lean in and kiss that smile. Despite the serious nature of their conversation, he absolutely could not keep away from Altaïr. He made his heart do silly flips in his chest, and if that wasn’t ridiculous, he didn’t know what was.

 

“Gifts and speeches won’t ply her. The only way she’ll get close is if she’s interested. So...we play dead. Distress signal, offline, dead in the water, all of it. The crew hides, you and I board her ship.”

It was a magnificently dangerous plan; the bread and butter of an assassin. Altaïr didn’t think marching up to her would win any points from her, nor would running and begging. No, you did it quietly, while unseen: that was how you dealt with a former Asssassin – and that was what Maria was, no matter what she believed in.

“Find her. Talk to her.”

 

“I will find her, and you do the talking. I’m sure the crew will love to float in space, pretending to be dead.” Ezio pulled Altaïr against him, sealing the plan with a kiss. It sounded dangerous and foolhardy, and he was mostly on board with both of those things.

But it could also wait an hour more.

 

-x-

 

The third quadrant was largely dead space; the planets here didn’t support life, the systems were far apart, and it was rife with pirates. If it weren’t for them, the mining prospects might’ve drawn a few entrepreneuring spirits out here. As it were, Maria and her vast fleet preyed on such hopes.

They snuck in quietly and moved around they found a pirate ship. Then it was time for the plan.

The  _ Firenze _ tore out of gatespace and empty cargo spilled out of its holds, like a wounded animal trailing its innards. They put out a few mines and triggered them with probes to imitate explosions, then cut the power. Most of the crew was already suited up and ready to hide in the asteroid ring that they stopped over for this exact purpose.

Meanwhile, Altaïr and Ezio were already in the shuttle that had been expelled in the first “explosion”. Its little stealth suite hummed online, concealing it from sensors, and they floated in the ring, waiting for the pirate that was in-system.

Predictably, its curiosity was too great. It wasn’t the  _ Burning Cross,  _ but it was a sizeable frigate with an impressive battery of guns.

 

It wasn’t her, but the frigate was definitely one of Maria Thorpe’s fleet. Ezio let Altaïr do the piloting, something they didn’t need to discuss. His time as a chip made him infinitely more suited to handling machinery.

“You think they will tow her, or pick her apart?”

If the latter was the case, they would have a problem. They’d have to sneak on the pirate ship either way, but if the _ Firenze _ was out of commission, they’d be quite stranded in this dead space. Shuttles could not hop in and out of gatespace, so it would condemn them and the crew to death. 

 

“They will tow her first,” Altaïr said as he watched the frigate creep closer. “And notify Maria of what they found. An Assassin ship is too valuable for just them.”

At least, that was what he predicted. This pirate could be one of the dumber ones who’d go under her nose, but they had a plan for that; infiltrate the ship and contact Maria. He hoped it would not come to that.

The blue light of a tractor beam shot out from the ship and plucked up the  _ Firenze.  _ Slowly, it began to be reeled into the frigate, where part of its hull opened up like a swallowing mouth.

Altaïr piloted the shuttle until they were close to the frigate, but still hidden.

 

Ezio kept the comment he had at the sight of his ship being towed by a pirate vessel to himself, but it sat ill with him nonetheless. It was just a decoy, but it might very well become a reality if they didn’t get Maria to help them out. And the only one who knew her well enough for that was Altaïr. Ezio couldn’t sit quietly, so he stood behind Altaïr’s chair, holding onto the back of it as he bit down his commentary.

“...right there.” He muttered but Altaïr had already seen the ample opportunity for the shuttle to slip inside. Their plan for a free ride to the  _ Burning Cross  _ seemed on track.

 

Carefully, the shuttle used the  _ Firenze _ as cover as they slipped closer, until it was time for them to abandon it and make the rest of the jump. Altaïr patted Ezio’s hand and they both hurried to the airlock to use their brief window of time. Taking the shuttle in would have been easier, but Lieutenant Picquery and the rest of the crew needed it more.

There was about one hundred meters left. The shuttle began to drift away from the  _ Firenze _ . Altaïr touched Ezio’s hand once more before they leapt into space, and towards the tractor’s beam’s blue light.

They caught the very edge of it, and it began to pull them along too. They were too small to register on the beam, so they followed  _ Firenze _ into the empty bay. As soon as the airlock shut behind them, however, they needed to move. They only had minutes until the cabin pressurized and pirates came in.

 

And the ship itself could not serve as a hiding place, since the pirates would crawl all over her and see what they could strip away before their admiral or commander or whatever Maria called herself came calling.

But it shouldn’t be much of a problem. The frigate didn’t have the rules of conduct or order of a Brotherhood vessel and the cargo bay was full of what Ezio suspected to be plunder. Some of it looked like debris only, and Ezio figured it either came that way and was about to be dumped or it had gotten that way here, in the careless, greedy hands of pirates.

He let the mask fold back from his face as he tapped Altaïr’s arm, indicating a large, hollowed out structure that may have been a pleasure cruiser once, somewhere, on some resort world like Hedonia. Behind it, an access vent opened up. As good a place as any to keep from scanners and eager eyes.

 

Altaïr nodded back. On silent feet, they stole into the pleasure cruiser. Altaïr replaced the vent behind them, and urged Ezio further into the ship to make sure they were out of scanner range.

Once they walked for nearly ten minutes, Altaïr touched Ezio and pulled his own mask down. “I think we’re good now,” he said. “Maria will come soon, whether she comes to us or otherwise. We just need to wait.”

The interior of the pleasure cruiser was empty; the luxurious furniture and decorations that might’ve populated it was gone, most likely taken out by the pirates, but the rooms were still beautiful. By the light of his helmet, Altaïr saw how the walls glittered with gold leaf and precious gems. There was artwork as well, stripes of brilliant turquoise and scarlet, but his light didn’t shine on enough for him to see what it was.

 

Ezio put the first thought that came to mind down. Just because they were inside of a pleasure cruiser and had time to kill did not mean that they could cruise for some pleasure. They needed to stay alert and on the lookout for any pirates that would pay attention in their general direction.

“This is a nice little vessel...shame it ended up in pirate hands.”

Ezio had been in plenty of cruisers and none of them had been this empty.

 

Altaïr circled around it curiously. The pleasure cruisers of his time had been similarly opulent, but this one was more high-tech than he was used to. In fact, he was rather sure this could cruise in empty vacuum just as well as it could atmo. He looked for anything that might point to its origins and ventured into the dessicated cockpit.

That too was empty. All the consoles had been removed, leaving nothing but this pretty little shell of a ship hull. However, the walls made him squint until he realized it was looking at the mural of a skyline. A very  _ familiar _ skyline.

“This ship was from Hedonia,” he murmured.

 

“It’s a pity she ended up here,” Ezio squinted at the mural, barely making out the familiar sight. Hedonia probably had a million more of these ships, so he doubted it was much of a loss, but it was still a faintly sad notion.

He recalled the promise made to him by an AI in his head. Of course, with the Brotherhood as it was and Abbas in his position of power, there was no chance that he and Altaïr could steal away to Hedonia, but it was a goal they ought to keep in mind, in case they survived the whole plan or the next hours when Maria arrived.

“This is not quite how I pictured our visit.”

 

Altaïr glanced at him, then looked back to the mural. Then he stopped, his brows creasing, as a thought occurred to him. He looked back at Ezio. Pleasure cruiser or not, they were on a  _ pirate _ ship. “Really?” he said. “Are you thinking about that right now?”

 

“I’m thinking about you right now,” Ezio gave him his best irritatingly charming look with a half smile. He wasn’t strictly serious about it of course, but if they would wait, there was no reason to be tense. Ezio got through the worst of missions with half a flirt and a smirk on his lips.

“What? Inappropriate?”

 

“A little, perhaps,” Altaïr said, though he was also smiling. “Do you do this often, or am I special?”

 

“You’re very special. I feel like I was the one waiting fifty years for you.” Ezio was pleased to find Altaïr at least a little pliant. He didn’t worry too much about keeping their voices down. Even if the pleasure cruiser was just a hull, it was the kind of hull that insulated noise, which was a bare necessity for any of these vessels.

 

God, this was an incredibly stupid thing to do. They were in the middle of a mission, hiding in the cargo hold of a pirate ship, and they needed to be vigilant. Prepared. Moreover, he’d made it a point to not do anything risky during missions. He’d  _ known _ people who’d died to the same mistake.

But... Ezio had a way of making him forget his inhibitions. Making him feel young, and stupid, and eager.

“Come here,” he said, leaning against the wall with the mural.

 

He didn’t have to be told twice. Ezio knew an invitation when he was given one and he was on Altaïr quicker than a pirate on treasure. They shouldn’t lose their focus, of course, but a little kissing wouldn’t go amiss. Ezio could be vigilant and map out every part of Altaïr’s neck at the same time.

The hood and the ceramo-armor put some limitations on what was possible for them right now, but Ezio wasn’t deterred at all.

“One day, you’ll really have that skyline behind your head, I promise, amore.”

 

“I remember you thinking that was impossible,” Altaïr said. He tilted his head down to kiss Ezio. The ceramo-armor didn’t let them draw up flush against each other, but that was for the best. “I was in your head at the time. I see things, sometimes.”

He cupped his cheek. More stupid thoughts sprung up, such as  _ Maybe we could take our armor off.  _ Then  _ maybe he could take his armor off.  _ Altaïr kissed him again so he didn’t actually say anything. Ezio was clearly influencing him.

 

Ezio was always in the right mood to kiss Altaïr and this was no different, despite the riskiness of their situation. As they kissed and moved along the wall, however, a holo-screen popped up, with a clear view of the pirate crew, milling around in front of the  _ Firenze _ . Their voices came through clearly as the discussed what to do. Ezio stilled with his arms around Altaïr’s waist. They must have activated something, and the pleasure cruiser wasn’t as stripped as they initially thought.

“Commander Thorpe is gonna love this.”

“Or gut us.”

“You need to look on the bright side o’ things, man. Abandoned Brotherhood ship like this? Startin’ to rain dead assassins soon, you wait for it.”

 

Altaïr froze when the voices came in. When it didn’t seem that they noticed them, he relaxed a tiny amount. He carefully edged them both out of the way of the viewscreen, but didn’t look for a way to shut it down. It didn’t appear that whatever they did had drawn any attention, and he would prefer to keep it that way.

“So I was right,” he murmured into his ear as he watched the screen. “She’ll be coming.”

 

“Good. Perhaps we don’t have to blow up one of her ships to get her attention this time.” Ezio lingered with Altaïr in his arms. This was a pleasant way to wait, stowed away on a pirate ship, surrounded by a crew of people that would not hesitate to shoot them on sight.

 

The pirates continued to chat, but they didn’t actually poke into the  _ Firenze.  _ It appeared that they’d allow this prize to go to the commander entirely. Altaïr closed his eyes once they left. Good. Everything was going to plan. Or bad. Things that went entirely to plan made him nervous.

Impulse made him pull Ezio closer. “How quickly can you get your armor on and off?”

 

“That depends; does all of it need to be off?” Ezio was very easy to convince when it came to things such as removing his armor for the sake of Altaïr’s affections, and just because they were in a precarious situation didn’t mean he wasn’t willing.

Besides, the ceramo-armor wasn’t one, solid piece. It would be quite easy to shrug some of it off.

 

“Not all,” Altaïr said, keeping his voice low and one eye on the viewscreen. Excitement and panic surged through him in equal measures. “Just this part.”

He ran his hand over Ezio’s armored hips, then his groin. “Can you do that?”

 

“I can see what’s possible,” Ezio was an expert at removing that particular part of his armor. It had come in handy before, and he was thankful for the experience now. With his eyes still on Altaïr, he ran his hands over his sides, dipping his fingers into unseen seams of the armor. He’d had it modified, just a little, right after discovering that the sight of an agent in full armor definitely attracted some willing lovers.

The plates came off with disturbing ease and if Ezio didn’t remember having them adapted, he would have been concerned. But in a fighting scenario, the likelihood of an enemy sensually feeling Ezio’s hips was very low and so was the risk of accidental removal.

 

The armor came off very quickly. If Altaïr hadn’t been caught up in this, he might have teased him for it. Instead, he kissed him once more before he dropped to his knees in front of Ezio. Their eager days together meant that he was now well-accustomed to this position, but this was the first time somewhere so precarious. It should have concerned him; he only felt more excitement.

The dark undersuit under his armor was easily navigated. Unlike the armor, it was meant to be easily removable, and so Altaïr didn’t have to wait very long before he could swallow Ezio down to the root. One hand went up to rest on Ezio’s armored thigh. His other wrapped around his dick once he drew back a little. It didn’t take much effort for him to harden the rest of the way, and the wet sounds of his sucking drifted through the empty cruiser hull.

 

It was dangerous, it was decadent and it was stupid, but god, Ezio loved it. Altaïr knew exactly how to touch him, how to swallow him down to make Ezio forget everything around them, including the chatty pirates on the viewscreen.

“Dio mio, you certainly don’t waste time.” 

And Ezio appreciated it. One hand pushed back Altaïr’s hood and ran through his hair, the other kept leverage on the wall. They were being foolhardy, but why waste something they’d already begun? Ezio was hard within seconds and he indulged in the obscene sounds, echoing around the cruiser.

 

_ This is stupid,  _ he thought to himself as he slowly pulled back, his lips dragging over his spit-slick skin, and stroked him. When Ezio moaned, Altaïr closed his eyes to listen.  _ But worth it. _

He sucked on the tip of his cock, coaxing more sound of out him, and before his head lowered to take him fully again. As he did, however, the viewscreen crackled. The voices that had been gone were back. Altaïr paused, concerned.

“Maybe we should stop,” he said, but Ezio’s dick rested near his mouth and when he spoke, his breath wafted over him.

 

“No, please don’t,” Ezio whined, completely shameless right now. If Altaïr asked him to beg, he would. No man liked to endure half a blowjob. 

He tugged a little on Altaïr’s hair, trying to encourage him to resume their filthy little pleasure. The pirates were back, but still short one crone, so they had time.

 

“She might be coming soon,” Altaïr said, still eyeing the screen. He didn’t pull back, not yet, and the urge to tug his own armor off was still there, but caution reared its head.

“Did the captain contact Commander Thorpe?”

“He did.”

And that was practically a confirmation! Altaïr almost got up, but another beseeching tug from Ezio convinced him to return him to his mouth. There was a new sense of urgency as he ran his tongue down his length; their window of time was closing. Maria was going to be here soon.

 

Ezio wasn’t so interested in the time frame as Altaïr was, but that might be because his dick was in his lover’s mouth. He exhaled contently for a second, then closed his eyes and focused on how good it felt. There was urgency behind Altaïr’s technique now, and Ezio didn’t much appreciate being rushed, but he knew their window of time was closing.

His other hand came down on Altaïr’s head to hold him still, just a little, as Ezio pushed deeper into his mouth. One great thing about an android body was the lack of anything approximating a gag reflex, so Ezio could, in fact, fuck his throat a little. He’d even take on one of Altaïr’s glares for his impertinence, because the feeling he got out of it was worth any price.

 

“Is Commander Thorpe coming right now?”

“Yeah, that’s why we have to spruce up this place for her. Captain wants it –”

Ezio thrust deeper into his mouth and Altaïr lost what he was listening to. He could practically feel him in the back of his throat; if he still needed to breathe, he would have coughed. Instead, his grip on Ezio’s thigh got a little tighter. He’d let this slide, being the one who started it in the first place.

Altaïr swallowed out of habit, and felt Ezio sink a little further in, felt the slide of his cock through every inch of his mouth. If only they’d had more time. Altaïr would’ve liked to learn whatever trick it was that let Ezio take his armor off so easily.

Later. Once they finished this.

He swallowed again and his throat tightened around Ezio, coaxing him to come. Altaïr let an appreciative little moan slip through.

 

The moan was the finishing touch. Ezio could have basked in languished attention for hours, or he could come down Altaïr’s throat right now, just as the viewscreen sounded out the rumble of an engine. With his hands in Altaïr’s hair, Ezio bowed over him and bit down on the groan that pulled from his throat. He would repay the favor later, in any way Altaïr pleased.

By the time Ezio had his armor back on, the captains were standing at attention, awaiting their commander.

“There she is.”

 

He wiped his mouth discreetly and narrowed his eyes at the screen. Their limited viewpoint meant that they couldn’t see too much, but the way the pirates lined up was unmistakable. There was only one person in space who could make them act like school children before an intimidating teacher.

After a few seconds, she came on screen. Grey-haired. Stooped. Glaring. Altaïr took a deep breath when he saw her.

“So the  _ Burning Cross  _ is here,” he said. “Let’s go.”

 

“Wait. Are you sure she’ll take the  _ Firenze _ on board?” Ezio looked at the viewscreen, then used his second sight. Unsurprisingly, everyone was the same shade of red, including Maria. Perhaps this was all a foolish idea. Hadn’t she promised to shoot him if she saw him again? True, it wouldn’t be the first time a woman had made that lie to his face, but with this old pirate, it might just hold true.

 

“The  _ Firenze?”  _ Altaïr said. “I honestly can’t say and it's a risk I won't take. I thought to board the _ Cross,  _ but it'll take much time. We confront her now. Here.”

He touched the parts of the wall that Ezio had leaned on and activated the viewscreen with. After feeling around, he found a section that was textured differently. He pressed it, and a red light switched on over the viewscreen. The voice channel was online.

“Maria,” he said loudly. “I'm back. We need to talk.”

On the viewscreen, the pirates lifted their guns. Maria held her hand up, stymieing them. “Who is this?” she asked.

“Altaïr,” he said. In reply, she dropped her hands and the pirates opened fire.


	20. Chapter 20

“Well, you certainly got her attention and gave away any chance of surprise, may as well talk to her now.”

Ezio could do nothing but hope that Maria had softened on the notion of helping Altaïr in the year since they’d met. Somehow, he doubted it, but he’d never known the woman in her youth either, had never seen the kernel of nobility in her.

The pleasure cruiser was not built for an assault, but the hull held. It helped that the pirates didn’t know where to shoot.

 

It was only a matter of time before the hull breached. Altaïr didn’t stick around long enough to find out how well fortified it was. “I’m going out,” he said and left before Ezio could reply. He chose the side that wasn’t peppered by blasterfire and leapt out.

Maria was flanked by three pirates. The rest concentrated on the ship. Altaïr climbed to the top of the ship and thought fast.

The armor was strong. Even if he was shot, he wouldn’t bleed.

The math was simple.

Taking a running start, he jumped off the top of the pleasure cruiser and took down one of the pirates who stood next to Maria. Ribs cracked under his weight, but he didn’t have time to think about it. He tugged the old woman to himself immediately. The pirates who turned to blast him immediately stopped, realizing he had a hostage.

“Maria, remember how we met?” he asked.

She didn’t say anything. Instead, she grabbed the blaster on her hip and shot his foot. The armor darkened, but it held.

“You did something like that, yes,” Altaïr said, smiling despite himself. “I knocked you out.”

“Don’t you fucking dare, Altaïr,” she said. “What the fuck are you doing here?”

“I’d like to have that conversation in a different setting, if possible,” he replied. “Tell your men to stand down.”

She glared at him through the corner of her eye. Then she raised her voice and snapped, “Put the blasters away, idiots.”

 

The blaster fire died down and Ezio figured that Altaïr had gained control of the situation. The door of the pleasure cruiser opened a fraction before it fell off of its hinges, which had been shot to all hell. The nearest pirates jumped a little and Ezio stepped out.

“Signorina Thorpe, what a pleasure to see you again.” He bowed his head in her direction after seeing Altaïr’s little hostage situation. That was definitely a good solution to not getting shot. He could only hope the old biddy was ready to listen to reason.

“Jump into an airlock,” she said, her eyes narrowed.

“Maria,” Altaïr said into her ear, “I’m sorry it had to be this way. But I came to apologize. And because I need help. Please. Hear me out.”

Maria was quiet. Just as he thought that she would shoot him again, she told him, “Let me go, or I’ll get my people to shoot your friend.”

Considering how she fully intended to shoot him full of holes, letting her go was a supremely poor decision. But Altaïr let her go. She stepped away from him before stopping, her fist clenched. Then she said, “Cute stunt, Altaïr. But did you finish the job?”

At first, he was confused. Then he saw the pirates behind her.  _ Ah.  _ “Of course,” he said, and even added a small bow.

He’d made her position here precarious. He might as well help make up for it.

“Good,” she said. “Then you and…” she squinted at Ezio. “Then you and that piece of shit can follow me.” She began to walk, not waiting for them.

Altaïr glanced at Ezio. Then he jerked his head towards the old woman.  _ Come on.  _ A few of the pirates tried to follow Maria, but she irritably raised her voice. “Fucking handle the ship, idiots. These two are mine and they won’t do anything aside from being  _ stupid.” _

 

Ezio didn’t need to walk very fast to catch up with Maria. The perks of her age did not include speedy movement, although she was still pretty lively for nearing a hundred.

“That’s not the worst a woman has ever called me,” he offered to Altaïr in good spirits, but he doubted he could lift the heavy cloud from his lover’s head.

 

“That’s the only thing a woman has called you, if you’re running around with him,” Maria said over her shoulder. She tapped her ear. “Commonwealth hearing aids. You may as well shout it.”

“Maria –” Altaïr began, but she cut him off.

“How long did it take for you to invite Altaïr into bed? Five minutes after he got himself this fancy walking computer?” she demanded. “He’s always liked the  _ masculine.” _

 

“Signora, it’s like you’ve known me all my life.” Maria’s tone and words would bounce off of Ezio’s unflappable charm until she was in the ground, which wouldn’t be much longer if she continued this pace of bitter living. Ezio did not envy Altaïr his task, and he was not glad to see just how right he was about Maria’s bitterness and its source.

“Though a bed is a luxury I do not have to wait for in most cases.”

 

She snorted. “Of course. He’s been like that ever since we met.”

“Maria, if we could talk –”

“Well, clearly we’re going to have to, aren’t we? God knows you assassins are like cockroaches. Even if you kill one, it’ll probably shit out a hundred more.” She sounded bitter. “I know what you’re here for. Brotherhood this, Brotherhood that. It’s always been the same with you, Altaïr.”

Altaïr shot Ezio a helpless look. He had been prepared for a negotiation, even a fight. He had  _ not _ been prepared for a conversation about the uncomfortable past – or their relationship.

“Maria… let’s just talk. Properly.”

She led them into a hyperlift. With one old woman and two armored assassins, it was a tight fit. “You want my ship. I heard.”

“Abbas is a danger to us all. To you. He won’t stop until he knows you’re dead.”

She shook her head. “Oh, I’m  _ aware.  _ I’m the one who lived the longest.” She looked up and made eye contact with Altaïr. Slowly, he pulled back his mask and hood. “I looked for you, you know.”

Sorrow flickered over his face. “I know. I… I wish things went differently.”

“Do you?” she asked. Her eyes grew intent. “You didn’t look for me after you turned yourself into an AI.”

“I was stranded on a ship on the run,” he said, brows drawn together. “It wasn’t an ideal situation.”

“You would’ve made it work,” she said, dismissing him. The hyperlift opened up into a hallway with several doors. Maria walked until she found a door with a little  _ 1\.  _ It opened into personal quarters – a bed, two chairs around a small table, and a vanity. She stepped inside and Altaïr followed her. She grabbed the door before Ezio could move in as well.

“You,” she said, pointing at him, “stay there.” 

 

Oh, so it was going to be a private talk then. Ezio narrowed his eyes but decided that Altaïr could handle it. If he couldn’t, Abbas was going to have an easy time with overwhelming their rebellious intentions.

He looked over Maria’s head at Altaïr, gaze too soft to be anything but appreciative and supportive.

“ _ In bocca al lupo, amore mio. _ ”

He knew this was difficult. They’d only discussed it once and Altaïr had shown no confidence in his ability to convince Maria. Unfortunately, Ezio could not carry this burden for him. This was not his past and not his battle. Instead, he inclined his head to the crone in the door and stepped back, ready to wait outside of the door like a dog. Ezio tried very hard not to consider himself in such a position. If he heard anything approximating gunshots, a door would not keep him from coming in.

 

Altaïr might have replied, if that wasn’t the moment that Maria cheerfully slammed the door in his face. Once that was done, she rounded on Altaïr. Studied him. Then scoffed. “Take the armor off,” she said as she walked past him. “You look ridiculous.”

“You tried to shoot me,” he pointed out.

“You took me hostage on my own ship,” Maria shot back. She pulled open the cabinet under her holoscreen and pulled out a bright green bottle. “Do androids drink?”

“Not really, no.”

“More for me.” She pulled the cork out with her teeth, spat it across the room, and thumped it down on the small table between the two chairs. She collected a glass in the same manner before she finally sat down and poured herself a drink. It smelled vile, like gasoline and vodka, but she downed it with hesitation.

Altaïr, after a moment, stripped off the armor and left it on the bed, then gingerly sat down in the chair next to Maria. She didn’t say anything and continued to drink.

After enough time had passed, he said, “Maria, I’m sorry for how things worked.”

“How things worked out?” she repeated. “That’s a pretty cute way to put it, isn’t it? You disappeared for fifty years, Malik died, and the Brotherhood went to shit. I had to become a pirate to survive. And now you call it ‘how things worked out’.”

“Those weren’t things I could control,” Altaïr said. “Abbas and Malik… you were with me when it happened. We both didn’t know. We were both late.”

“Suppose you’re right,” Maria said. She shrugged a shoulder. “Doesn’t mean I can’t resent the hell out of you for it anyway. As for  _ now... _ ”

“The Brotherhood can’t stay as it is,” he replied. “Abbas isn’t happy with things as is. He’ll always want more. Reach for more. He must be stopped.”

“God, can you stop looking at the greater good for ten seconds?” Maria snapped. “Now I remember why it took two years for me to stop wanting to push you off a bridge.”

For a moment, Altaïr was struck by how familiar this moment felt. He and Maria had had many similar arguments before, about this exact topic, butting heads in the same way. He closed his eyes, suddenly overcome.

“I’m sorry,” he repeated, “that we – that our relationship ended like that. And I’m sorry that I’m coming now to ask you for your help after fifty years. You are not obligated to, Maria. I just...” 

“Hoped I might after I said no the last time?” she said. “Hoped I changed my mind?”

What could he say to that? Maria was immune to charm, or flattery, or wheedling. She was deaf to pleas, and threats wouldn’t faze her. The same immoveable quality in her that he’d admired so much was back to bite him in the ass. Finally, he shook his head and said, “What… what can I do then, Maria? What do I need to say or do?”

She said nothing and poured herself another drink. Slammed it back.

“Altaïr,” she said once her drink settled. “Fifty years ago, I was in love with you. I still loved you years after you disappeared. I spent my time, my money, and my life looking for you. I gave up after ten years. Ten years after that, I met someone else.”

“That’s wonderful?” he tried.

“I killed him,” she replied bluntly. Altaïr pursed his lips. “Now you come back. You come back looking like you’re thirty again, come back with some empty-headed boytoy, and you beg for my ship. Do you think that looks good?  _ Sounds _ good?”

“I can hardly help the fact that I’m an AI now,” he said once she was done. “And Ezio is… he was the one who took me out of my ship when I was stuck in it as nothing but a program on a chip. And the Brotherhood? Maria –” He ran a hand over his face. “... you know I can’t leave it. Them. I never could.”

“Oh, I know,” she said with a small, bitter smile. “I told you that Abbas couldn’t be trusted. I told you a lot of things, but you were never that good at listening. It drove Malik up the wall.”

He sighed heavily. “I suppose you’re right.” There was nothing else he could say. Altaïr settled in his chair and stared at the floor, thinking but coming up empty each time. There was nothing to do but wait for Maria to come to her own conclusions.

Maria tapped her glass with her nail – a metronome for her thoughts. Her wrinkled face was distant, in thoughts that Altaïr could only guess at, and she didn’t look at him, not even once. After nearly a minute passed, she said, “What happened to the technology that made you this?”

“Lost.”

“Can you recover it?”

Altaïr frowned. Then he adjusted himself. “What do you mean?”

“I mean,” she said, turning to look at him, “I want to become a Turing AI too.”

He blinked, taken aback. After a beat, he said, “I – I thought you hated AI.”

“Mm, I don’t  _ trust _ them. It’s a very keen difference.” She poured herself another drink. “But it’s different when I see you, who should be an old and ugly man, waltzing up with your pretty face. I want that.”

“I don’t even know where I’d get it again. It was technology that Malik worked on.”

“I didn’t ask you  _ how,”  _ she pointed out. “I just said I want to become one.”

“...is that your price?” he finally asked. “For your help?”

“I think so, yes,” she said, swirling her drink. “Promise me, and you’ll have the  _ Burning Cross.” _

Maybe he should have taken her up on the drink offer after all. It wouldn’t  _ do  _ anything to him, but it was a lot better than just sitting here like a jackass. Altaïr was silent as he considered it and Maria said nothing, simply drinking away, until he planted his hands on his thighs. “Alright,” he said. “I promise.”

“Fucking finally,” Maria grumbled. “Now you, idiot in the hall – come in, I can  _ hear _ you shuffling outside like a dog that needs to pee.” 

 

Ezio pushed into the room with ease. There was carefully concealed anger on his face, but it wasn’t about to explode into the room. He’d heard every word of their conversation and he was not happy with the terms and conditions of this agreement. The emotionally stunted talk between Altaïr and Maria had been painful enough to suffer secondhand discomfort from, but what Maria demanded as a price was an impossibility.

And some part of Ezio was thoroughly scoffing at the idea of a bitter, immortal pirate bitch with the ability to take over ships and fleets.

“Altaïr. You can’t make that promise.”

Ezio didn’t trust Maria, he didn’t have a life-long history of knowing her. Whatever she’d been when Altaïr knew her was long dead. The noble woman he may or may not have been in love with was as dead and gone as Altaïr’s real body.

 

Maria snorted into her drink.

“Ezio,” Altaïr said slowly, “I don’t recall consulting you.” 

He frowned. He didn’t need Ezio complicating this when it was obvious that Maria disliked him. They didn’t exactly have a wealth of options for if she chose to throw them out. Besides, hadn’t he been the one to suggest apologizing?

“What’s wrong, boy?” she asked, crossing one wizened leg over another. “Scared?” 

 

“Of you? No. As bitter and shrunken as you are, I don’t think you’re invested in universal domination.” Ezio had had quite enough of Altaïr’s show of nothing. He’d apologized, true, and he’d folded. Where was the steel resolve that had built the Brotherhood? Where was the strength of mind to convince someone to follow him with mere words alone?

Had everything Altaïr built started with that damn Apple? The thought was unwelcome and angry and accusing and Ezio didn’t know where it had come from.

Disappointment, in Altaïr? How could he even think that? 

He focused on Maria again.

“Aside from the fact that the technology disappeared into a black hole, none of this is about being an AI,” he indicated Altaïr, “or about living forever. Why will neither of you let it go?”

 

“Ezio –”

“You’re mighty protective for someone who met him only a year ago,” Maria said. “What’s this really about, hm? Angry?  _ Jealous?” _

 

“Jealous? Of what? I’m sorry to say this signora, but you no longer possess the means to be stealing any man’s attention.” Ezio could be snippy if he had to be and Maria’s comment threw his anger for a loop, but he didn’t let it deviate his purpose for long.

“And that’s not it, at all. You have no right to be treating him like this. He was lost, for fifty years. And you might have looked for him, but you didn’t look hard  _ enough _ . You didn’t save him or his accomplishments. You just ran and became a pirate. Which is fine, if you’re amenable with serving nothing but yourself. But do not turn around and act as if Altaïr chose his fate.”

 

“What a chivalrous little hero you are,” she said mockingly, “sailing in like this to save him from the big, bad pirate. But you hardly looked for him yourself, did you?  _ Luck _ led you to him.  _ Luck _ is why he pays attention to you –”

“Enough.” Altaïr didn’t move, but his tone was quelling. Irritation and displeasure had slowly crept onto his face while the two sniped at each other, and he’d reached the limit of his patience. “Both of you – enough.”

He looked to Maria first. “Do not talk to Ezio like that again. I came here to apologize for some parts of what we once had and to honor you for once being one of my greatest friends, but you are right. Circumstances have changed.” His face hardened. “So have I.”

They stared at each other for a few seconds, saying nothing. Maria was the first to look away.

Altaïr’s gaze slid to Ezio. “No more.” 

It wasn’t a request.

 

Good. This was exactly what Ezio had expected, had hoped for. For Altaïr to demonstrate that he was not a lesser man than Ezio knew of. 

He fell quiet for a moment, if only to indicate that he had heard Altaïr’s final word and the matter was resolved. Hopefully, it meant that Altaïr had absolved himself of his feelings of guilt.

“It is not luck. It is love.”

That was all he had to say to Maria. He showed himself out by turning on his heel. He’d heard enough out of this old crone.

 

There was no more to say. Altaïr got up and replaced his armor. Maria continued to sit and drink well until he turned. “The  _ Cross?” _

“I’ll be up soon,” Maria said, still drinking. “Go, then. Tell me navigator where you will take us. As for your promise?”

“Stays,” Altaïr said. “But we’ll go over the details of it on Masyaf.”

“Over Abbas’ dead body,” she said and toasted alone. 

Altaïr dipped his head in a silent nod and went to join Ezio in the hall. “Do not pick another fight with Maria,” he said as they walked shoulder-to-shoulder, deceptively mild. “No matter how much you dislike her. We need the  _ Cross. _ ”

 

“She treats you like garbage. I will not stand for it.” Ezio bristled, still angry, still wired to do exactly that. Fight with the old bitch until she whipped out her cannon arm and he could test his reflexes. Something about Maria’s attitude just sent him whipping past amusement and to anger. Maybe it was his general feeling about Altaïr. He’d always been protective, but his reason no longer persisted; Altaïr was more than a chip now.

 

“Ten minutes of enduring that won’t kill me,” he said. “Only working with people we like is not a luxury we possess right now.”

Even if Ezio had meant well. That was why Altaïr wasn’t actually angry at him. He was touched, but he wanted to be well away from Maria before he said anything. Once they were in the hyperlift, he leaned against the wall and said, “There you go again, protecting me.”

 

“And why would I not? I love you. And believe in your ideals, too, but I definitely love you.”

Ezio had no problem speaking his mind, his emotions always close to the surface. Whether it was anger, outrage, joy, or lust, there was only a very thin filter between what he felt and what he did. He could push everything aside and work as an assassin, of course, but his true motivations were never out of touch. 

And speaking of touch, his hand rested on Altaïr’s arm now, because he’d gone entirely too long without physical contact.

 

“I know you do,” Altaïr said. He put his hand on Ezio’s and felt the warmth of it, comforting and reassuring as ever. “And I do too. But sometimes we have to put some things aside for our goals.”

He squeezed his hand briefly, then dropped it when the hyperlift doors slid open. “We need to find the  _ Firenze,”  _ he said. “Retrieve her before they do anything, then find our crew. Once we do, we go for the  _ Burning Cross.” _

 

“I’m sure they’ll appreciate the huge, floating fortress. It’ll be worth the hours they spend adrift in space.” Ezio let go of him. He didn’t agree with the notion of putting things aside that mattered. His relationship with Altaïr was key to their whole idea of rebellion. Without each other, they had nothing.

“Why would that woman want to be an AI?”

 

“Functional immortality. Ability to control a ship without a crew. Take your pick.” Altaïr glanced at Ezio through the corner of his eye. “Notice that I didn't promise to find her an android body. She will have to handle that on her own.”

Not to mention that he didn't have the technology on him. That had been Malik’s domain.

“For now, don't worry about it. Right now, Abbas is our focus.” With that, Altaïr went to terrorize some pirates away from the  _ Firenze. _

 


	21. Chapter 21

_ The Burning Cross _ was more of a space station than a ship. Ezio couldn’t get used to the amount of room, or the height of the ceilings. He didn’t like the crew, the ship or the reason they were here.

But none of that mattered now. The Burning Cross had opened up the path to Masyaf for him and Altaïr, and the shuttle that had brought them here was currently busy exploding against the tower of Abbas’ stronghold. 

Ezio had dropped out of the crashbound shuttle with Altaïr just moments before, and they had silently split to meld into the confused and agitated masses of people that had escaped the explosion and the tower’s defenses opening up on the shuttle.

Now, it was a race against time. They had to find Abbas before he could utilize the Apple, while the attack from the Burning Cross still engaged the defenses of New Assyria. Altaïr would go through the hall of records, Ezio would take out the guard posting that was stationed between the tower and the gate.

 

Masyaf was in chaos. Altaïr raced through the hall of records while an alarm wailed around his ears. The floor shook under him – the towers in danger of collapsing after the shuttle crash. Two towers had already collapsed, and a third threatened to join them soon.

Stones tumbled down from the sky. Altaïr raised his arm over himself as he sprinted under cover and used the fallen debris to clamber higher. Abbas’ tower was open, but it wouldn’t last long. He needed to get in before the shields kicked up again.

Abbas, meanwhile, searched for a way to get off of the tower before his attackers caught up to him. The Apple was back in his armor again, snatched out of the shield generator cradle when the planetary shields had fallen, and he slammed open the door to his study. He could hear the scream of guards outside.

 

Guards were usually a good sign of something precious inside. Ezio felt only vaguely terrible for killing members of the Brotherhood and he tried to avoid it where he could, but time was of the essence here. Abbas’ henchmen could be a moral dilemma for another time.

The tower was collapsing, but not in this immediate area. Abbas’ study was still relatively intact when Ezio burst in from the other side, his ceramo no longer a crisp white. Scorchmarks here, a blood-spatter there, he was a sight of battle and that’s exactly what he’d deliver if he found Abbas.

Luck was on his side and he locked eyes with the Grandmaster. Abbas himself, without guards, just one man, in a position to be defeated. Ezio could end this, all of this, right now. All he had to do was kill Abbas and free the Brotherhood from his poison leadership.

Ezio’s blades were activated, he did not stop to allow Abbas to talk.

 

He would not survive if he fought Auditore. So Abbas didn’t try.

The panel in his armor opened and the Apple rolled into his palm. Abbas used its light to shield himself from Auditore’s blades. As his will channelled through it, the artifact brightened and shone into Ezio’s eyes.

_ Give in,  _ it whispered alluringly.  _ Submit. _

 

This time, Altaïr wasn’t in Ezio’s head to protect him. Ezio heard the siren call, and his mind folded like a wet napkin. Everything he wanted played out behind his eyes and his arms sank to his sides to stay there. There was no sense in killing Abbas...he’d already surrendered. The Brotherhood was strong and just, and he and Altaïr were happy. It was right there. Right in front of him.

It was fast and it was absolute; the Apple’s control over Ezio did not care for his long years of training, or his experience as a killing machine. It took his mind as easily as an apple was plucked from a tree.

Ezio remained motionless, the blades deactivated. 

 

More of the tower collapsed, forcing Altaïr to find alternate routes in order to navigate through it. Stone and dust showered over his shoulders as he scaled the outside wall; it was no longer smooth after the beating it’d taken, and he scrambled through quickly. The shimmer of golden light, however, stopped him in his tracks. It came from the middle of the tower, where a large chunk had been bitten out of it, and it was the Apple, it  _ had _ to be.

Altaïr took a running leap to reach it from where he was standing. He barely caught the edge and pulled himself up to see Ezio.

“Ezio!” Altaïr grabbed his shoulders. “Did you find Abbas?”

 

The golden light had faded from Ezio’s eyes, but its song continued in his mind and heart. It had shown him the truth, the shining truth, and the lie before his eyes seemed dull in comparison. The Apple whispered to him, instructed him, and Ezio drew his blade. This one was not real, this one was an imitation, a poor one, of his Altaïr. This one had to be destroyed. The Apple demanded, and Ezio obeyed. His attack came fast and without hesitation.

 

The blade sunk into the space between his armor and into his throat. Altaïr choked on his shock, and let go of Ezio.

If he had still been a flesh and blood man, that would have killed him within seconds and he would have drowned on his own blood.

Instead, the blade cut open synthetic skin and silicone. Altaïr reached up, grabbed the blade, and snapped it in two. He shoved Ezio back and tugged out the blade lodged in his throat, then said, “What are you...?”

His voice whistled slightly as air passed through the little hole. A little trickle of blue oil curled out of the opening and over his white armor. Altaïr studied Ezio closely and he saw the dazed, listless expression on Ezio’s face. Realized what Abbas had done. It was too late. He could not help Ezio, not like this. Regret passed through him, followed by determination.

“Get out of my way,” he commanded and pulled his hilt off of his hip. The laser-blade lit up.

 

Ezio planted himself firmly, discarding the hilt of the broken blade and raising his arms instead. He had plenty of weapons to go through, a veritable arsenal stowed away on one person. His eyes were unseeing, but he followed Altaïr’s movements exactly.

The Apple was bound to its current master, and his fear made for a grip that lingered long beyond death. If Altaïr thought he could get around Ezio, he’d be sorely mistaken.

And speaking of Altaïr’s target, Abbas had a perfect view from the upper floor of his open office. The Apple pulsed in his hand and he clutched it tight. He could not believe what he was seeing, but somehow, he knew it was real.

“I always knew you’d be back to haunt me. Why can’t you just stay dead?”

 

“Not as long as you’re alive, Abbas,” he replied. HIs eyes trained on Ezio, he considered ways to disengage from the fight without hurting him. Yet everything he attempted failed; the Apple had taken Ezio’s mind, not his skills. He was good, perhaps even an equal match for him.

He attacked in a flurry of blows, aiming to disable his armor and put Ezio out of the fight. 

 

Ezio matched him, blow for blow, stride for stride. There was no overwhelming him, and there was no tiring him out. What his human body lacked, the Apple would force upon him. 

Abbas watched. With each movement that Ezio foresaw, each attempt to rush past him blocked, his confidence grew. 

“Auditore was always an excellent agent. Perhaps your equal in everything but the mind, Altaïr. I’ll leave you to find out.”

The Apple shone once more as Abbas held it out. Ezio stilled for a heartbeat to receive his new command.

“Kill him.”

 

Abbas ran. Altaïr would have chased him if it weren’t for Ezio.

“I don’t want to fight you,” he said, heart aching. His words fell on deaf ears, because Ezio simply moved to attack him. Altaïr fell on the defensive as he evaded him, and continued to wrack his brains for a way to get out of this.

Even if he ran away, Ezio would follow. Disabling his armor wouldn’t help – he would probably just take it off and continue. Altaïr didn’t know how to break him out of his daze either, and he didn’t know if Ezio could break it himself. Didn’t have the time to find out. 

“Ezio, listen to me!” Nothing.

His only option was to fight. And to win.

He avoided Ezio in a tight spin, then thrust his blade out behind him. No defending. If he had to hurt Ezio to help him, then… then so be it.

 

Altaïr’s plea went unheard. Ezio moved as if he was the android in this situation, as if he knew no pain or fatigue. He was also far too close.

The first strike of Altaïr’s that landed tore through an armor seam and exposed Ezio’s side and right arm. He did not pause to fix the damage, but he did tear off the remaining sleeve, right before diving back into close range. His aim was on Altaïr’s chest, searching, not for a heart, but for his power source. The Apple seemed to have processed that this fighter was not human and required additional means to kill, because it guided Ezio into more and more reckless maneuvers. 

The only reason he was not sliced open earlier was his experience, dominating his motions. But the longer the fight, the more desperate the fearful hand of the Apple’s master.

The first fatal strike of Altaïr’s blade was when it twisted into Ezio’s lower stomach, brushing past the broken armor and bathing in hot blood. 

Ezio stumbled backwards with a stifled gasp of pain, but made no motion to stem the flow or attend to the wound. Instead, he drew his blasters.

 

The appearance of the blood that sheeted down Ezio’s armor was surprising, even though Altaïr had  _ felt _ his blade sink into him. He faltered for a moment, and a few shots from the blaster impacted him, but it was only a moment. He tackled Ezio before he could get any further and wrestled the blasters out of his hands. He threw them away and then punched Ezio before he could do anything else.

“Stop this,” Altaïr told him quietly. “Don’t make me do more. Just stay down.”

 

Altaïr could have pleaded with Abbas and expected more response. Ezio writhed under him in an effort to get free, elbowing, kicking, biting. Anything to escape Altaïr’s grasp. His eyes remained as dead as before, as if all manner of thought and consciousness had left Ezio behind, an empty shell of deadly skills, to be wielded by any hand on the Apple.

The wound in Ezio’s abdomen was happy to shed more of his blood, raw and open under the chipped and charred pieces of armor that remained. The white and red looked stunning for all the wrong reasons.

Ezio headbutted Altaïr instead of giving him any sort of answer. 

 

Abbas knew that Ezio lost. He fled. Altaïr could hear his footsteps growing more distant.

Ezio continued to struggle under him, mindless and unfeeling. If he didn’t put him down, Ezio would get up and follow him. At the rate he was bleeding, he wouldn’t make the climb down the tower anyway.

Altaïr’s throat squeezed with emotion. He had too little time and not enough options; Ezio  _ had _ to be taken out of the fight before he hurt himself, or anyone else.

Altaïr reached up and wrapped his hands around Ezio’s neck. Squeezed. Tears stung the corner of his eyes but his hands were steady.

 

Survival and the Apple’s compelling command to fight had Ezio resist, but once Altaïr’s hands were around his neck, there was not much a human could do. Even a skilled, experienced fighter like Ezio was still human and subject to human weakness, such as a need to breathe.

His face turned a very unpleasant shade, quickly, as he jerked beneath Altaïr, gasping and fighting and shuddering. His eyes clung to Altaïr, not seeking his gaze, just taking him in with the stare of a scared animal. The dead obedience had only given way partially, and naked terror lay beneath as Ezio choked, fighting for air against Altaïr’s grip.

 

Altaïr wished that something would happen – that someone who could tear him off of Ezio and stop this madness. That the tower would collapse under their bodies, or the Apple would fail, or – or anything. Anything at all.

They remained undisturbed.

His tears fell and landed on his hands in small, wet circles. They fell on Ezio’s face. Altaïr wanted to stop. But he couldn’t. Not with Abbas still out there, not with the  _ Apple _ still out there. He’d devoted his life, then his death, to this.

Maria’s face flashed before his eyes. She had not been able to forgive him that. Would Ezio hate him too for this?

“Ezio,” he said, one more time, hoping for the veil to lift and Ezio to come back to himself. But no. Still the same.

His hands tightened; he felt his pulse under his palms, like a trapped bird, desperate and afraid.

There was one answer to his question. Altaïr watched Ezio’s eyes fade away as he strangled him, crying, unable to stop.

_ That didn’t matter. _

 

Altaïr’s tears mixed with blood and sweat on Ezio’s face. They fell into his eyes too, but Ezio was too busy dying to take note of that. The Apple surrendered him now, but there was no air in his lungs, no words to form on his lips. He saw Altaïr above him, crying, felt his hands around his throat.

Ezio’s mouth was already open to gape for breath, but now he tried to speak. It would not obey, the words thick like bile in his throat as his entire body burned, demanding what it was denied.

His hands, clawed into Altaïr’s sides, came up to hold his wrists. Not in an effort to wrench them off, Ezio didn’t have the strength for that anymore, but one last touch that was subject to his will alone before the darkness wrenched him away. Everything was glaringly white for a second, then it was dark.

Ezio went limp under Altaïr.

 

Altaïr let go as soon as he felt Ezio stop struggling. When he didn’t move even when he pulled his hands away, Altaïr knew that Ezio was unconscious.  _ He’s alive,  _ he told himself, but the lump in his throat refused to go away.

Altaïr tugged his mask down and pressed a kiss to Ezio’s filthy forehead. “I’m sorry,” he whispered to him, then got up.

He couldn’t linger, no matter how much he wanted to. There was just no more time. Altaïr left Ezio to find Abbas and it was a relief to feel his pain transform into rage. He leapt down from the tower and tore after him.


	22. Chapter 22

An old man had a considerably harder time navigating Masyaf’s towers and mountains, but Abbas had spent fifty years making the place his castle.

And now, it was crumbling as he rushed down broken stairs and dysfunctional escalators. The Apple was back in the armor, and he’d called for his personal guard to escort him to his ship. They might lose Masyaf to the invasion of pirates and rebellious agents, but as long as he lived, the Brotherhood would thrive.

And his life depended on him putting distance between himself and the ghost of his past.

The how and why of Altaïr’s return could be answered once he was safe. One step towards that was the presence of Dharma.

“Where is my ship?!” he barked instead of a greeting.

 

“Sir, it’s just come in,” Dharma said as he immediately fell into step besides Abbas. “We’ll take you out of here, sir, don’t worry.”

Abbas’ personal ship was the  _ Vengeance.  _ Whereas most Brotherhood ships leaned on the small side, she was a colossal beast of epic proportions and was, perhaps, the only vessel on New Assyria that could stand a chance against the  _ Burning Cross.  _ Abbas was ushered inside hurriedly, Dharma covering him every second of the way.

Altaïr didn’t see Abbas board his ship, but he saw it in the distance and knew what it meant. He pushed himself to run faster, but Abbas had gotten a healthy head start on him during his fight with Ezio. But he couldn’t think about that. Abbas could  _ not _ get away.

 

But he did. Abbas breathed easier, once the doors were sealed and the ship lifted off of the dock. Altaïr had failed, again, and this time, Abbas would not make the mistake of letting something survive their encounter.

“Take out the entire complex. Now. I don’t want anything left standing.”

Even if he was some kind of android, nothing survived a round with the cannons of his ship. Abbas watched as his former home, his castle and keep, burst into flame, occasionally interrupted by explosions, the white towers crumbling and collapsing in on themselves. It didn’t matter that there’d been records and people in there. Those could all be replaced, as long as Abbas and the Apple were safe.

 

Altaïr’s back heated up as explosions bloomed on the top of the mountain. Even from this distance, he could hear the boom of the towers falling.

It felt like someone had carved out his heart. He wanted to stop and collapse and sob, because he had  _ left _ Ezio in there. There was no way he’d survived that. If the explosions didn’t end him, the collapse would. If there was mercy in this world, then he would die quickly. If not, then he’d die slowly, suffocating, or being crushed, or anything else that could have happened because  _ Altaïr left him. _

He reached the space docks where the  _ Vengeance  _ was. Taking a running leap, Altaïr grabbed the very edge of the maintenance rails that ran under the ship. As the ship rose, however, his body dragged him down. He scrabbled for a grip and finally managed to secure himself. He climbed towards an access hatch.

His hand just brushed the edge of the hatch before something under his body popped. Altaïr glanced down and saw that the rivets holding the rails were nearly out of their holes. His eyes widened and he grabbed for the hatch.

And missed by the smallest margin. He  _ felt _ his fingers ghost over the metal before the rivets failed for good. Suddenly, he was in freefall.

“No!” Altaïr reached up but it was too late, he was already falling, and the underbelly of the  _ Vengeance  _ drew away as the ship rose. He landed on the docks painfully and something inside his body cracked on impact. Altaïr rolled a few times before he came to a stop, and he scrambled to his feet.

The  _ Vengeance _ was far away now and gaining speed. There was nothing here that would get him to it in time.

 

No one on the ship saw the struggle of the solitary, tiny figure trying to attach to the hull. Abbas saw his fortress, collapsing, and the clouds they were rising through. He’d leave New Assyria behind, deal with this pirate pest, and start the heart of the Brotherhood over somewhere new. Perhaps he’d leave the command on this ship, and always be on the move. It would be harder for anyone to plan anything if they couldn’t run reconnaissance on a structure.

Abbas’ idling thoughts turned back to the Apple and he let it rest in his palm. Safe. Secure. It would lead him on, as always, and he’d guard it closely as he learned more of its Precursor secrets. This was just a small setback, that was all.

The rest of his crew was not distracted by staring into an ancient artifact, but no one saw the dark shape ripping through the clouds dead ahead of them either.

 

Abbas had escaped. He still had the Apple and Masyaf was in ruins. And Ezio… Ezio was  _ dead. _

For the first time in years, Altaïr didn’t know what to do. How could he think when so much had been taken away in a single blow? All things felt darker. Colder.  Ezio was dead under those towers – dead because Altaïr abandoned him there.

He had been ready for his death. He had not been ready for Ezio’s. No matter what he’d said before, he had not been ready.

Half the  _ Vengeance _ was in the clouds. Soon, it would leave the atmosphere and gate out. Altaïr should run and find a ship to follow it in, but he felt hollowed out. It felt like there was nothing he could do without losing something precious, and Ezio – he had been precious. Too precious. 

 

The groan of the giant in the sky reverberated over the destruction on the ground. The Vengeance’s visible half was rapidly descending through the clouds again, but this time, she was clearly out of control. Fire bloomed along the bright lines of the hull, flashing among the clouds and searing the sky. 

The giant began to fall back towards the port she had left from, her colossal shadow darkening everything unfortunate enough to be underneath. Cruisers, people, small ships, everything scrambled to get out of the way as fast as possible.

Blue fire licked along the fuel lines as the behemoth ship dipped down, a white wing clipping out of her bridge deck. An entire ship, smaller, sleeker, was lodged firmly inside, the sharp nose completely piercing the hull. 

 

Like a drunken whale, the  _ Vengeance _ pitched over. Streamers of smoke belched out of her ragged internals as she fell down. To Altaïr, it felt like time stretched out, one second into infinity, and he couldn’t believe what he saw.

It was the  _ Modernity _ inside of the the  _ Vengeance.  _ Like an arrow shot from heaven, she must have gated into atmo and then struck her suicidal dive straight into the larger ship. Had it struck any other place, the  _ Vengeance _ likely could have shaken it off. But no ship, regardless of size or power, could fly with half its engine sticking out of its hull.

The  _ Vengeance _ got close enough for Altaïr to see its serial code before he dived out of the way. The docks were pulverized behind him as the ship dashed itself over the concrete expanse.

 

No, no no. How could it all have gone wrong so quickly?! When the small ship struck the Vengeance, Abbas expected to shrug it off. She was a glorious vessel, built for universal conquest, for dominance, for victory!

And now, she sank back towards the ground like a beached whale on a hill. Slowly, gracelessly, the ground rose up to meet them, to embrace them. 

Abbas was off of the bridge before the impact came, walking as fast as his aged body permitted, to find a shuttle. Even if he could not leave in his ship, he would not be trapped on New Assyria by some aspiring rebels.

When the ship hit the ground, he was already strapped in. The hatchdoors were not open, however, and Abbas had to make a choice; sit and wait or do something drastic.

Golden light tore apart the shuttle bay door, but the vessel Abbas had claimed for himself and his escape wouldn’t lift off. It wasn’t a shuttle at all; it was just a pleasure cruiser, and it lumbered out of the shuttle bay, scurrying off across the burning landscape like a drunken rat.

 

The dust hadn’t settled before Altaïr was on the  _ Vengeance  _ with renewed purpose. If Abbas was smart, he would take a shuttle. When the bay doors opened and a cruiser burst out, however, Altaïr wasn’t fazed. He grabbed the edge of the ship as it sailed past and was yanked off his feet.

The air dragged at him but this time, his grip was ironfast. Altaïr climbed under he reached the thin doors of the cruiser and punched through it. He damaged his fist in doing so, but he didn’t care; he tore a hold open into the ship and climbed inside.

“Abbas!” he roared as he stood inside the cruiser. The ship was tiny, there was no space for Abbas to hide. He took a running leap at the old man in the pilot’s seat. His time was up.

 

“You!”

Abbas was in no shape to be wrestling an android. Not even in the prime of his youth could he have managed such a feat, and certainly not now that he was an old man plastered in cuts and hounded by fear.

His armor helped him out where his body no longer was up to the task and he dug into his chest compartment, pulling out the Apple to try and combat this undead demon who would not remain lost to the world.

“You can’t kill me, Altaïr!”

The Apple pulsed.

 

The light of the Apple was intense and Altaïr was briefly blinded. But he shook it off and he grabbed Abbas by the front of his armor. In its golden light, he looked inhuman. “I have looked into the Apple before,” he said. “It has no power over me.”

His blade swept out from his wrist and sunk itself into Abbas’ neck.

At that moment, the cruiser’s nose dipped down while its aft flipped up. Altaïr and Abbas were both thrown off their feet and the Apple went flying. The cruiser clipped its wings again before it tumbled down and grounded itself.

 

Another crash and tumble, and this time, Abbas did not manage to keep hold of his precious Apple. His body was still partially protected by armor, but it was a rough crash and all of him ached. 

When his vision returned, he searched for gold, only to find himself surrounded by darkness and orange licks of flame. The cruiser had come to a standstill, the doors blown off. Through the gaping hole and the debris and the blood in his eyes, he saw it.

Not twenty feet from the cruiser, the Apple called for him, softly glowing, sweetly beckoning with its golden light.

Abbas’ body protested as he forced it forward, his legs refusing their service. So he crawled through the debris, the dirt, he crawled on his stomach, mad eyes on the Apple.

 

Altaïr’s ears rung. He was flat on his back in the back of the cruiser and something heavy – a crossbeam from the ship – laid on his chest. He groaned, pushed it off, and then got up. He couldn’t see Abbas.

He picked his way to the hole that had been opened into the side of the cruiser after its doors were ripped open, and found a pitiful sight before him. Abbas was still alive. His armor was burnt and dented on the back, and the angle of his legs said that they were broken. Yet, he stilled crawled towards the Apple.

Altaïr stepped out. Walked to him.

For so many years, he’d felt nothing but rage. He’d thought that this final moment would be an angry moment, but now, looking at Abbas, he felt no fury. Just pity.

Abbas’ filthy fingers stretched out for the Apple but Altaïr gently nudged it away from him. When the old man turned to look at him, he pulled out his blaster and shot him.

His skull was obliterated. And that was that.

As he looked down at his body, Altaïr recalled something he saw from Ezio. “I hope you will know peace in your second life, Abbas,” he said. “ _ Arqud fi salamin.” _

He turned away from the body. The Apple was still there, beautiful and golden and alluring, and Altaïr sighed before he tiredly picked it up. It was warm in his palm and he felt it thrum, as if greeting him.

It offered itself to him. Altaïr looked around Masyaf, at the destruction that had been wrought upon his home, and the people gathering at the docks, and he sighed again.

Slowly, he raised the Apple up and golden light poured out of his hand. For Altaïr, it shone over all of Masyaf.

_ Submission,  _ it offered him.  _ Dominion. _

He didn’t want that. All he wanted was…  _ give them the truth. _

So the Apple did.


	23. Chapter 23

It took a lot less time to clean up the mess than anyone would expect. Perhaps it was the drive of a newly enlightened Brotherhood, or the simple miracle of a lost legend, returned to them in their hour of need.

Either way, Masyaf recovered. The towers were still in the process of being rebuilt, but the complex once again housed life. With a lot less guards and security systems in place, too. It looked...well, it looked different. Still a little rough around the edges, unfinished, the wounds still raw and fresh, but with the air of hope.

New recruits milled in the courtyards, old, formerly exiled agents returned to teach the ways they’d believed in.

The only blemish on the land was the dark smudge of the  _ Burning Cross _ hanging in the sky, but it took more authority than most had to tell Maria Thorpe when to leave.

 

Responsibility for Masyaf was given to the former headmaster of the academy, Bayek. Perhaps, once the mess was cleaned up and things went back to normal, they’d see about formalizing their government. For now, all everyone needed was someone to look like they knew what they were doing.

Altaïr might have been forced into the position if he hadn’t retreated after he took the Apple and wiped away fifty years of lies. It was all just too much and he… he needed to take a step back. Recover his balance before he leapt.

“I brought you something today,” Altaïr said as he slowly walked up to the rock he usually sat at for this. “My doctor said that it would help me train my dexterity.”

The little eagle he’d whittled out of wood was amateurish and rough, but one could make out the details in the eyes and feathers. Altaïr ran his thumb over the textured back. “Most of my repairs are all done now,” he continued as he examined his little eagle. “I sustained several internal ruptures but Leonardo came – I told you last week – and he fixed them. He, ah… he offered to finish his work on my body, but, well.” Altaïr smiled ruefully. “I don’t think it’ll be necessary anymore.”

He talked a little more about Leonardo and Salai, and how they’d come when they heard about what happened. There was a lot of people coming, actually, people who’d either ran or were ‘lost’. “Abbas made a lot of enemies,” Altaïr said. He found a rough bump underneath the eagle and frowned. He thought he’d gotten everything.

No matter. Altaïr pulled his little whittling knife out from his pocket and began to work on it. He wasn’t in armor anymore – hadn’t been since that day. He preferred simple, easy clothes, and they made him blend in. Nobody expected Altaïr, legend reborn and returned, to be dressed like a civilian.

Wood shavings fell down around his bare feet.

“I still miss you,” he said as the bump smoothened out. “Every day.”

Altaïr turned the eagle over once more, then set it down on the memorial stone that marked where Ezio had died. He’d carved it after Masyaf was freed and then climbed the bombed out mountain to set it down on the foundations of the middle tower. 

_ Ezio Auditore _ _   
_ _ Departed, never forgotten and always loved. _

 

It wasn’t proper to interrupt a man speaking with a grave, but Desmond never had been very good at manners or propriety. Plus, he’d just scaled a mountain to get here and as he heaved himself over the edge, he could hardly disguise the heavy breaths escaping him.

Maybe he should have taken a cruiser up here instead of the old-fashioned way.

“Sorry!” he called as he realized that he was definitely not alone up here. Suddenly his idea of leaving something at this particular memorial stone seemed wildly inappropriate. The antique blade and bracer disappeared behind his back as he straightened up and eyed whoever was up here.

It was difficult to not recognize Altaïr after studying at Masyaf, but he looked wildly different to what Desmond remembered. Less scowl, less hooded, more like a clean, homeless person.

“Uh...didn’t realize anyone would be up here.”

 

Altaïr had heard him coming up here a full ten minutes before his head popped up over the edge. He tilted his head in welcome. “Just paying my respects,” he said and looked back at the memorial, “to someone I loved.”

He gestured at the stone. “Don’t let me stop you,” he said. “Go ahead, Desmond.”

 

“Ah, no, that’s alright.” Desmond felt very inappropriate now, having brought nothing but a tribute to the kills made under Captain Auditore’s name. It was especially weird in front of Altaïr, who was...well, very impressive, even without shoes and in some simple, plain clothes, rather than glowering from under a hood.

Desmond stepped up to the memorial stone, fidgeting awkwardly. “I’ll just...wait til you’re done.”

 

He watched Desmond fidget for a few more seconds before giving him a small smile. “That ship that hit the  _ Vengeance,”  _ he said. “It was yours. The  _ Modernity.  _ That was good work. Abbas would have escaped if it weren’t for you.”

 

Desmond lit up a little bit, visibly calming down under the praise. Maybe Altaïr was in the mood for a little chit-chat, it did get pretty lonely up here on a mountain peak.

“We got here pretty late, but I’m glad we made it at all.”

The break from his nerves in Altaïr’s presence was welcome, so Desmond gestured to the man, the legend himself. “But everyone knows who  _ saved  _ the Brotherhood.”

 

“I only came back to finish what was already started,” Altaïr said. Saved? It didn’t feel like it. Victory was bitter when it came with so much loss. “Abbas took too much from me in his greed.”

His friends, now Ezio… truth be told, Altaïr felt alone. He was on a planet where everyone knew him, but knew nothing  _ about _ him.

He looked at Desmond. Well, maybe not completely alone.

“Come here, Desmond,” he said. “Sit by me. Let’s talk.”

 

Desmond didn’t know what to make of this sudden invitation, but he was happy to accept. He didn’t know so much about Altaïr from his studies, but he very vividly remembered how it felt to have him inside of his head. 

He put the bracer, blade, and kill count marker down by the memorial stone, trying his best to seem casual about hiding the words he added with magic marker. They felt extremely silly and inappropriate now.

Desmond hurried to sit down near Altaïr, trying his best not to look like an eager kid. It failed, because he mostly was one. “I gotta say, you look exactly like the pictures. And the statues. It’s eerie, but cool.”

 

“Uhm, thank you.” Altaïr had wanted to remove the statues. If it weren’t for Ezio’s fondness for them, he would’ve followed through. “I wanted to ask you about something, actually. Do you… do you have living family members? A mother, a grandmother?”

He’d tried to search for Willow and Joan Miles, but the hall of records had gone down when Abbas fired upon Masyaf. They were still scrambling to put together everyone’s data.

 

“That’s...a weird thing to ask.” Desmond seemed to be getting away with his jokester tribute to Auditore, which was a small victory in his eyes. Oh, and the legendary founder was asking him about his family relations, no big deal.

“Mom died when she had me...my granny raised me until I was ten.”

And then she’d died too, but the circumstances were suspiciously similar to his mother’s death. A sudden health complication. An extended stay in a hospital. A short and unexpected death. “Then she went, too. They said it was a genetic disease.”

 

Altaïr swallowed and closed his eyes bitterly. So they were dead too. He wanted to believe it was merely fate, but something told him that it had been Abbas too. Altaïr wished he knew what great hate had inspired Abbas to work so hard to throttle every piece of Altaïr there was.

“Do you remember the time I – you and I briefly shared your head?”

 

“Sort of. Blurry. I mean, I remember you going in, that hurt like a bitch. And then I saw all of these things about the Precursors, the Apple… that was intense.”

So was the undiluted lust he’d felt at the sight of Captain Auditore, but Desmond was never going to bring that up to anyone, ever. That had felt like walking in on two people fucking, two people that you absolutely did not want to see naked, because they’d probably kill you for it.

 

“I saw things from you too. And I think…” It was hard to say. He’d thought about it over and over again, but faced with Desmond’s guileless face, Altaïr found himself searching for the right words. “I think you’re my grandson.”

He looked down at the memorial stone and the little gift that Desmond had left. The frivolity of it was almost endearing.

“I knew your grandmother, Willow, when I was young. In my twenties, actually.  But she never told me she had a child, and your mother never reached out to me.” He wished he knew why.

 

“Woah, shit, are you serious?” Desmond could have probably put it more delicately, but you didn’t get a revelation like that every day. Him? The founder’s actual family?

That was fucking wild, and he wasn’t sure if Altaïr was happy about it or depressed. Then again, he did just learn that his child was dead, as was the woman who’d birthed her.

“You’re my grandpa?”

 

“I am,” Altaïr confirmed. “I would suggest a genetic testing, if I wasn’t like this.” He waved at himself vaguely. “I would have told you earlier, Desmond, but I wasn’t so sure I would survive Masyaf’s liberation. So I decided to keep it secret until we could be properly united.”

Altaïr looked at Desmond and studied him for a long time, enough to make the younger assassin fidget again. He held out his arms for a hug. “So. It’s good to meet you… grandson.”

 

Desmond was awkward as he moved closer, embracing Altaïr with all of the social grace of an introverted cousin, but he couldn’t help but feel awed.

He was Altaïr’s actual family. His blood was the same that...used to run through the man’s body. That was pretty cool.

And it probably explained the Apple’s reaction to him, so that was another worry put to rest.

“It’s...nice to know you. My family was uhm... kind of tragic. Mr. Auditore always said there was more to my blood than meets the eye.”

 

“It’s nice to meet you too,” Altaïr replied. “I have never had a family, really. My mother and father both died when I was young, and I never met anyone else who was related to me. Until you.” He kept his hand on Desmond’s arm, just to feel that he was there.

“Would you tell me about your mother?”

 

“I don’t know much about her. The most I got was in the files,” Desmond moved back and kept a moderate distance between them. Just because they were related didn’t mean he had to constantly cuddle.

“See, there was an investigation about her sickness. And granny would never talk about mom. But...I saw pictures. I know she had a pretty hard life.”

 

His brow creased in sorrow. “I’m sorry,” he said. “I wish I could have been there for her. I wish your grandmother told me about her… you.” So many wishes, but wishes were wind. “Do you think she was murdered?”

 

“Maybe. I mean, I was pretty young, I didn’t really get any of what was going on.” Desmond dug out his communicator, flicking through the files he’d carried around with him for his entire life. They were useless records now, but they felt personal. Like he needed proof that his family was not a bad dream.

“There was an agent Auditore that looked into things. He asked questions. Granny threw him out once, and I never saw him again after. It wasn’t Fifty-K, though.”

 

“Fifty –? Never mind,” Altaïr said hastily. “Not Ezio? Do you mean…” He searched through his memories of Ezio until he found the one about his family. Petruccio, Claudia, Maria… “Giovanni. He was Ezio’s father. Killed by Abbas for looking into things he should not have.”

The conspiracy went deeper and deeper.

“I think he was right,” he said after a while. “Abbas killed your grandmother. Your mother.”  _ My child. _

 

“...why? Because of you?” Desmond swallowed, trying to digest the depth of this foul theory. Someone had murdered his mother on her birthing bed, before she could ever hold her child. And then those same people had taken his grandmother away too?

It was horrible, and Desmond’s perplexed joy at the revelation of being related to Altaïr waned, piece by piece.

“He really didn’t like you, huh?”

 

“Abbas hated me. I don’t think I’ll ever understand why.” Altaïr wanted to pin the blame on the Apple but it wouldn’t explain everything. Abbas’ hate had come from deep inside of him, from a place that Altaïr would never know.

“Once upon a time, he used to be my friend. When we were just boys. And then he… he killed my best friend. Killed me. Took what I made and made it into  _ this.”  _ He spread his arm to indicate Masyaf. “He took everything I cared for and destroyed them, even if I didn’t know they existed, just to make sure I could never have them. And I don’t know why.”

He wasn’t sure if he  _ wanted _ to know. Altaïr sighed and shook his head. “Desmond, I’m sorry that you and your mother were brought into this.”

 

Desmond wasn’t exactly the best person to ask about Abbas’ motivation, he knew nothing of the former Grandmaster. He barely knew the basic facts about Altaïr, other than what he’d done since his resurrection.

But at least he was man enough to know that Desmond and his family had suffered and he apologized for it. That, for Desmond, was the foundation of a good man in general.

“I’m not stupid enough to blame you for it. Honestly? I’m just glad this is all over and I’m still breathing. When you and Fif- Captain Auditore came to find me, I was pretty sure I’d end up dead.”

 

“Where did you four go anyway?” Altaïr asked, seizing the opportunity to change the topic. “I don’t think Abbas ever knew you were alive until you arrived and rammed his ship.”

He might have suspected, certainly, or he wouldn’t be the same paranoid man who lived in a tower with a permanent guard detail and personal shields. Yet somehow, Desmond managed to slip his net.

 

“Red Zone. No one would be dumb enough to look for us there.” Desmond kept quiet about how dumb it had been of  _ them  _ to go there, but that was a matter he kept to himself. 

“I couldn’t think of anywhere else to disappear to.” He grinned, a little proud of his stupidly brilliant idea.

 

That was a suicidal move, but Desmond clearly had survived, so really – that made it a smart move. Altaïr moved to put his hand on his shoulder, then remembered how Desmond had shifted back. He aborted halfway.

“Well, thank you, Desmond,” he said as he got up and brushed his pants free of dirt. “I should probably go now.” He still didn’t really know  _ what _ he was doing anymore, but he’d find something.

 

“Hey, wait, can I ask you something?” Desmond wasn’t quite so eager to end this first edition of emotional show and tell. He still knew nothing about Altaïr himself, despite the discovery of being related to him.

 

“Of course, Desmond. Whatever you need.” Altaïr stopped and turned, expectant. He hadn’t exactly said it, but he was willing to move the sky and earth for Desmond’s sake if he asked. He was all he had left.

 

“I know it’s not really...I mean, it’s weird, but I really gotta know. You and him,” he pointed to the memorial stone, fully aware that what he was asking was incredibly personal, but he also had fifty bucks riding on this that had his name all over them.

“You were like...doing it, right? Before you got all...well, before you got a body? How did that work?”

 

“I… what?” Altaïr finally said after several false starts. He stared at Desmond uncomprehendingly, hearing what he said and not actually registering it. He couldn’t possibly mean…? No. Of course not. Desmond obviously meant something else. “Please, clarify?”

 

“Well, after you came to not kill us, we sort of...we had a pool going about whether or not Fifty-K was doing a computer chip and I gotta say I have no idea how that could even remotely work and then Rebecca had a lot of weird input that involved remote controls and things that don’t let me sleep at night so I just wanted to set the record straight.”

The words burst out of Desmond without any sense of control or decency.

 

Altaïr slowly rocked back onto his heels as he digested that outpouring of information. His face went through several expressions as he broke it down: first confusion, then bafflement, then understanding. Finally, he settled on acceptance. He’d been silent long enough to make Desmond fidget, and he was silent for a bit longer so he could really think about what he said and who he said it to.

“Ezio and I,” he said and God, he was doing this over Ezio’s memorial stone, “did not have sex in the way one usually does.” Wherever he was, he was laughing. It was the sole reason why Altaïr dignified this question with an answer – because it would have amused Ezio something wild. “But we did. Quite a lot and vigorously,” he added, just to see Desmond blanch.

Let him think twice about asking something like that.

 

Desmond did shudder, but the fifty bucks were his and Shaun could suck on the truth like a bunch of lemons, because Desmond had been right. Never doubt a man whose grandfather had been inside of him, or something like that.

“Right. Thanks. And...sorry. It… shit, it’s gotta be pretty bad, I mean, he died here, and... I’m sorry I asked that. That wasn’t cool. I can go now.”

 

Altaïr watched Desmond shuffle away, faintly amused. Once his dark head was gone, he leaned back and said, “I think you would have liked him. I’ll see you tomorrow. Good-bye.”

With that, he headed down the mountain after Desmond.


	24. Chapter 24

Altaïr really couldn’t say how he got to Hedonia. It involved him following Desmond and then meeting some other man who was apparently  _ with _ Desmond. The fellow had been oddly unsettling, like a creature that didn’t quite understand how to be human, and then something  _ else _ happened.

He felt like Desmond’s friend had tried to eat him, but his memories got fuzzy around there. All that  _ could _ be said was that he woke up in Hedonia two days later, wearing completely different clothes and feeling hungover. He recalled something from Rebecca about an  _ alcohol program,  _ but that couldn’t be right. He was also, as it should be noted, on someone’s roof.

 

“I’m telling you, there’s a hobo on the roof and if he’s naked, I will scream.”

Markus had had enough of Hedonia. Once upon a time, it had been an oasis, a pleasurable, happy planet of nothing but frivolous spending and free drinks for him. Now, however, that they lived in a two bedroom in the bad part of town and homeless refugees constantly took up shelter in his backyard, so he was less inclined to love the place.

“I swear to God, Percy, I’m not dealing with this. Please go see if he’s dead. Or naked.”

 

Percy watched Markus bitch with an adoring expression. It was only when Markus’ expression got expectant that he stood up and leaned over the table to kiss him. “I’ll go look,” he said, “and get them out, if I have to.”

He reluctantly got up from the couch and went to grab the long stick he used to prod the ones who got up on the roof, except this one must’ve rolled, because he flopped down on the ground with a heavy thud. Percy observed him for a few seconds before he prodded him.

“Mmph,” said the guy, so he was alive.

“Hello,” Percy said, “please get out of our yard.”

“Mmm,” the guy said before he slowly picked himself up. “I… where am I?”

“St. Junipero, Wine Street, door number seven. You shouldn’t be here.”

 

“Unless you plan to pay rent for the night.” Markus peeked his head out of the window, giving the supposed homeless man a long once-over. Drunk, handsome, but probably penniless.

“Don’t need two freeloaders under my roof.”

 

Altaïr blinked at the two of them for a few seconds, not understanding. Then he peered at the one who poked him, really  _ looked _ at him, and saw the little assassin’s sigil on his belt.

“You’re an assassin,” he said. Then he held his head. What had he  _ done?  _ His heart hurt, and he was an android – he wasn’t supposed to feel pain! “I – I don’t know how I got here. I need to go back to Masyaf.”

Some memories flashed by. Desmond covered in black slime, screaming. Lucy, screaming. Shaun, cursing, and Rebecca loudly yelling about going to Hedonia. Something… they’d done something.

“Masyaf?” Percy said. “It’s a disaster.”

“No, it’s being rebuilt,” Altaïr corrected. “I am an assassin.” 

 

“Are you?” Markus scoffed for a moment, assessing Altaïr’s state of dress, but then enlightenment struck him. An assassin. From Masyaf. Perfect. That could solve all of Markus’ current problems, if he could convince the drunkard to make a poor choice.

“Maybe you know our guest then.”

Markus knew very well who his guest was, but he had no intention of returning to Masyaf or the Brotherhood. His debt was paid, and he wanted his comatose burden gone.

“Percy, can you help him in? Before he’s sober and rational?”

 

“I am sober –” Altaïr protested, but Percy was already on the move. He nudged the assassin inside and looked at Markus in askance.

“Don’t move,” he said. “Just a sec.” Then he went to Markus and muttered, “What’re you thinking? He doesn’t have any money on him, I checked.”

 

“Doesn’t need to. If he’s really a fully fledged assassin and going back to Masyaf, he might take our little problem off of our hands. I can always bill the guy later, if he ever wakes up, you know?” Markus nudged the door open and gestured towards the second bedroom, currently firmly sealed.

“Plus it means we can finally leave here. It’s two birds, one stone.”

 

“Leave? You sure about that?” Percy kissed Markus briefly before he straightened up to deal with the assassin. “Alright. We’ve got one of your assassins here with us, he was injured in the fight that happened in Masyaf. We can’t exactly just dump him anywhere, so you do you mind taking him off our hands?”

Perplexed, Altaïr said, “I don’t – I’m not even sure why I’m here – I don’t think I can –”

Percy didn’t listen. “Great,” he said and he grabbed Altaïr’s wrist. He could have easily broken free, but instead he allowed himself to be lead like a confused dog. He took him into the closed bedroom, then pushed him inside. “Go in.”

“Wait, I don’t even –” The door slammed shut. Altaïr rocked backwards as the noise speared through his skull. Eyes screwed shut and grimacing, he went to the bed to sit down, disregarding the assassin in it. Whoever he was, he probably didn’t even – 

Altaïr glanced at him and saw the face of his dead lover. The shock of it knocked the drunkenness out of him. “Ezio?!”  

 

The assassin in the bed made no motion, his eyes firmly closed. A lot of makeshift medical equipment monitored his vitals on the side, most of it old and a little damaged. Markus had scraped together as much as he could, but his Good Samaritan act only stretched so far.

Also, short of robbing a hospital, he couldn’t really try for more.

 

Altaïr was immediately all over him. He clutched his face, smoothed his hair away from his head, and tugged the sheets on him away from his body, checking to see if he was  _ real  _ and not a hallucination brought on by whatever he was doing. And he felt real. He looked real. Moreover, other people talked about him, so he  _ had _ to be real.

“Ezio,” Altaïr said shaking him, “wake up. Wake up!”

Despite his best efforts, the man remained firmly senseless. Altaïr gathered him into a tight, breathless hug, and stayed like that for a few seconds before he reluctantly let go. He immediately crashed out into the other room.

“Where did you get him?” he demanded, wild-eyed. Next to Markus, Percy already had his blade out, startled. “He died on Masyaf!”

 

Markus had been about to check on the sudden noise and wailing in the second room, but their uninvited guest came barrelling out on his own anyway. Markus slid a little behind Percival, just in case.

“He, uh...we were there. Before it blew up. He was just...passed out on the floor, bleeding. I figured that was a bad, bad place to leave him.”

 

“So you… you took him out?” Altaïr asked, suddenly feeling light-headed. It was an impossible, absurd hope, but he wanted to believe it so much that he couldn’t think. 

He strode towards Markus and ignored the blade that Percy raised. Its sharp edge pressed into his body as Altaïr grabbed his hand and held it between both of his. His eyes were intense and bright with tears. “You pulled him out of Abbas’ tower before he shot it down?”

 

“Yeah...” Markus traded a concerned look with Percival. What was happening right now? Was this joy or just absolute shock? Either they’d saved someone heroic or someone belonging in a prison, there was no in-between.

“Lucky too, that place went down in flames like five minutes after we got out.”

 

It was true.  _ It was true. _

Altaïr slid down to his knees, uncaring of how it looked. Maybe it was the thing in his system, or it was the shock of seeing Ezio again, but it felt like the clouds had opened up for him after darkness and there was light, and meaning, and potential in the world again. He had known that it was Ezio from the moment he saw his face, heard the pace of his breath, but he hadn’t dared to let himself believe. But now, but _ now...! _

A few tears slipped down his face as Altaïr fell back on old human habits and sucked in a deep, fortifying breath.

“Thank you,” he said, his voice trembling with emotion. “You don’t understand – thank you. My name is Altaïr, Altaïr ibn-La’Ahad, and you saved someone unimaginably important to me.” 

 

That name rang too familiar and Markus lost his eyebrows somewhere near his hairline. Altaïr? The founder of...the guy who made all those rules and ideals that Percival talked about when Markus fell asleep in his lectures?

That guy?

Was kneeling on the floor, thanking Markus for his unbelievable act of kindness that had saved a life.

“You’re welcome? Honestly, it was just...I mean, couldn’t just leave him there to die.”

Markus exchanged another look with Percival.

“So you’ll take him? Back to Masyaf?”

 

“Yes,” he said immediately. “Of course. I won’t leave without him.” He would contact Bayek and tell him to send a ship to Hedonia. Not just a ship, but a hospital ship, so Ezio could receive immediate care. He’d looked remarkably well but Altaïr wouldn’t rest easy until he could know for certain.

“I don’t know what I can do for you,” he said to the two, “but don’t hesitate to ask.” He wiped away the tears, unashamed, and moved back into the second bedroom. Sat on the bed again.

It was him, unmistakably, perfectly him. Altaïr held his hand and pressed it to his lips, and something inside of him, something that hadn’t healed right after Ezio died, came loose.

Abbas hadn’t taken everything after all.

  
  


-x-

 

“I don’t know what else to tell you, sir. He should be awake. He should be fully conscious. He’s completely healthy.”

The third doctor consulted by Altaïr gave him the same message about his lover at his bedside.

Ezio’s return to Masyaf had been a quiet affair, without any media involved. There was no family to bother contacting, Altaïr was all that Ezio had, in any capacity.

The hospital ship had stabilized his condition and verified that he was still fully capable of consciousness. There was no brain damage or trauma, but the coma lingered on.

 

Altaïr’s triumph lasted for a week before it soured into desperation. He had Ezio’s body, true, but his mind was missing and Altaïr didn’t know why, nor did the parade of doctors who passed through his room, despite trying everything under the sun.

He’d even tried entering his head as a chip. It’d been a risky job – Leonardo had warned him that his android body might reject him the second time around – but if there was even the smallest chance of waking him up, it had been worth it. Altaïr made the dive into his brain, but nothing he did could make Ezio wake up. It was like typing on an unpowered terminal; the keys clicked and the buttons pressed, but nothing on the other side read it.

Now, his body came with discomfort that had not been there before and Ezio was still in his coma.

He let a month pass like that until his desperation reached its peak. Altaïr had even turned to prayer when it was late and he was alone. He beseeched every god under the sun to help him and promised to become faithful if he woke, but Ezio remained dead to world.

With no other recourse, Altaïr was forced to consider his last resort – the Apple.

He had vowed to no longer use its power. The power it offered wasn’t worth the humanity one traded in exchange and, in truth, Altaïr had always feared what it would do to him. How it would pull him in with visions and half-seen dreams. Nothing could make him use it.

Except everything had its exception. That was what Ezio was; his exception. He always would be, here and now, and at the end of the world.

So Altaïr pulled the Apple out of the safe he’d locked it in and brought it to Ezio’s bedside. The artifact weighed heavily in his hand, but Altaïr closed his mind to its whispers and ignored the figures in its light. He picked up Ezio’s hand and kissed his knuckles, as he had so many times before.

_ Release him,  _ he commanded the Apple as he stood over Ezio. Bathed in its alien light, he looked beyond human. Beyond mortality.  _ Free him. _

He pressed Ezio’s hand to the Apple.

 

The Apple was no fan of releasing anything that it had possessed and it put up a fight. Altaïr’s mind was filled with sweet attempts of seduction, trying to convince him that he could heal all that Abbas had wronged if he just gave up this one, insignificant  _ thing _ .

Ezio’s hand twitched on the Apple. Just the barest hint of a movement, but it was there.

And if Altaïr listened closely, he’d hear the voice in the Apple. The one that showed him a future, over fifty years ago. 

 

_ No. _

He had his regrets and he had his wishes, as all men did. The Apple preyed on such weaknesses and offered alternatives – beautiful, seductive worlds in which the sky was soft and everything went right, but Altaïr was too old and suffered too much to fall for it.

_ Give him back. _

Regrets and wishes, regrets and wishes… Ezio would never be a regret, and he was more than a wish. He was real – devastatingly, fantastically real – and Altaïr wanted him more than any fantasy that the Apple could give.  

 

_ He’ll die again. He can live forever if I keep him. _

The Apple tried for that known human weakness, the call of mortality. It was its last chance to hold onto something tangible. Perhaps it was as reluctant to let go of Ezio as Altaïr.

_ Give him to me. _

 

Ezio would never be happy as a fly preserved in amber. He was a flame that deserved to breathe, and devour, and burn until his warmth and light spread to everyone around him.

His grip on the Apple tightened. The light of the artifact grew painful and its warmth, usually so gentle, felt searing, but Altaïr did not let go.

_ No. He belongs with me. _

 

The Apple struggled under Altaïr’s will, but it was just an artifact. Once, it had been more. Now? Now it surrendered to a man with but a drop of Precursor blood. Its sense of pride, if it could be called that, was severely dampened.

It relented with petulant silence.

Ezio’s chest rose and for the first time in months, he actually breathed, on his own.

His eyes opened, but he had to close them immediately. It was far, far too bright.

“... _fuck_ .”

 

Altaïr let out a ragged sound, too harsh for a sob, too wet for a cry. He dropped the Apple carelessly and grabbed Ezio to hug him tightly to his chest, ignoring all the little tubes and bits of plastic that dug into him. It had worked, God, it  _ worked. _

“You’re awake,” he said into Ezio’s long hair. It had grown a lot for the time that he was under and reached past his shoulders now. “I thought you were dead.”

 

“Where...Altaïr?” Ezio tried for opening his eyes again, but it was a struggle. It was so bright, and he felt like a mole person who had done nothing but live underground for the last twenty years.

Altaïr was warm on top of him. Warm and heavy and alive.

“Is it over? Did we win?”

 

“Yes, we did,” Altaïr laughed as he kissed him all over his face, his eyes and nose and cheeks and everything, his heart filled to bursting. “Abbas is dead. The Brotherhood is freed. And you – you’ve been away for a long time, Ezio.”

He was awake. After everything, he was awake.

“I have so much to tell you. But right now…” Right now, it didn’t matter. Right now, Altaïr was dizzyingly happy and everything,  _ everything, _ felt good and right and utterly, utterly perfect.

 

“You’d know all about that.” Ezio managed to squint in Altaïr’s direction, his smile slow but wide. This was better than anything else he could have woken up to, and if the radiance of Altaïr was anything to go by, they’d done well. He may not know what else happened, but that was enough.

They’d done enough, and they were both alive. 

Nothing was more of a reward than that.

FIN

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> i could never let ezio die before his time v.v thanks for coming along for the ride.


End file.
